We are sitting around the kitchen table. Ma presses chocolates from a mould. My sister and I carefully wrap them. Pappa places them pretty boxes tied with ribbon.
We are at the Christmas market where Ma is selling her chocolates. I wander over to Father Christmas. From his sack, he produces a chocolate star and hands it to me. “It’s not as nice as Ma’s,” I say. “I know!” he whispers in my ear.
We are standing beside a gravestone in the snow. We place chocolate hearts upon it. “Enjoy them Ma” my sister and I say. “Sweet dreams, my love,” says Pappa as he turns and leads us away.
Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle. The photo is by Jean L Hays
Prod the frog to join in the fun!