[ He's just finished bringing over another load of heavy cans, enough food for probably one of the small villages that he'd have passed through, years ago, but apparently only a part of a neighborhood here, when he sees the people with the very sharp objects. It takes him a second to figure it out, but when he does, it's almost like a slap to the face, reminding him of the last time he'd seen this.
His mother, his grandmother, sitting while he peered at them, wondering why they needed blankets when it was so warm. Now, he's been standing and staring for too long, the woman looking at him like he's going to stay. Who knows? Maybe he is. It's been a very strange night, why not make it stranger? Eyes drawn to the way she spins them, he finds himself jealous and wanting to try, but he subdues that, paying attention to her words. ]
What sort of choice do you need to make? Isn't it just yarn?
i.
His mother, his grandmother, sitting while he peered at them, wondering why they needed blankets when it was so warm. Now, he's been standing and staring for too long, the woman looking at him like he's going to stay. Who knows? Maybe he is. It's been a very strange night, why not make it stranger? Eyes drawn to the way she spins them, he finds himself jealous and wanting to try, but he subdues that, paying attention to her words. ]
What sort of choice do you need to make? Isn't it just yarn?