Broth ^^^^^ Ivory ghosts ascended from the cloudy liquid as he stirred. "You don't want too much steam, see. That's all flavor, all the flavor's cooking out." He stirred the bones once more before tapping the ladle against the rim of the pot and replacing the glass lid. The kitchen was as hazy as a prize fight, and beads of water began running down the fogged windows. The sodium light above the stove was the only light source in the room, dying the steam a sunrise orange. It made him drowsy. And nostalgic. He flipped a switch to turn on the hood, and suddenly the room was a black vacuous space punctuated by the multi-colored lights of appliances on standby. The fume hood wiring was one of the many little things he had neglected to fix around the house ever since it was just the two of them. "Papa!" she shrieked. "God damn thing," he muttered as he deactivated the fan switch, reactivating the artificial dawn. He leaned over a sink-full of undone dishes to open the window. It swung open and banged against the side of the house. The crisp autumn night immediately replaced the clouds as they billowed out into the noir. His eyes followed their ascent to the crescent moon staring at him from above the treeline. "Nice moon out there tonight." He stared for a moment trying to enjoy it, remembering the many moons and cold nights he had enjoyed before. The sober silence of the evening made him feel guilty that he was only now realizing how deep into autumn it was. She leaned off of her chair to peek at the moon, and saw him pick up the slightly rusted apple he had been eating off the counter. He nibbled the last pithy bits of flesh off the core and tossed it out the window into slumbering laurels. "Papa, why did you do like that?" "Like what? How come I threw the apple out?" She nodded. "You're s'pposed to put it in the trash can," she said matter-of-factly. "Well, apples are biodegradable, so it's alright. You know what that means? Biodegradable." She didn't. "If something is biodegradable it means that it turns into dirt." She understood what he meant. "You know we're biodegradable too? That's why when we die all that's left is bones. You know, remember? You learned about that, huh? When people die we bury them and all that's left is bones. Like Pop Pop." She thought about skeletons for a moment, enjoying the thrill of being slightly spooked by the idea of them just laying there in the soil. "Why are there only bones? Why do they do that?" "Do what? Why are only bones left over?" "Yeah, why don't bones biodegradable?" "Why aren't bones biodegradable, you mean? I guess they are... or are they? Bones are like rocks kinda, but also kinda like trees." "Like trees?" She errupted with laughter, and he felt guilty again in the presence of her blithe innocence. That was his baby. How could he be so cross with her at times? He rationalized his sternness for a moment. Anyone in that situation would do the same, he thought. It hadn't been easy for them since they were on their own. He forced a chuckle to tease himself away from his needless worrying. "Yeah, they're like trees. But trees are biodegradable too. That's why they're also like rocks, like a shell. Like how snails and oysters and stuff have shells. We have bones. They're just shells on the inside really." His explanation sounded like an absurd game to her, setting her off on a fit of silliness. "Bones are like...broccoli! No...Papa, bones are, bones are like the moon! Ha ha!" He remembered the broth on the stove. He opened the lid and released a few more captive spirits. He turned off the burner and filled up two large bowls with the milky liquid, setting them aside to cool by the window. Steam rose from them in columns, like a ceremonial tribute to the brilliant night crescent. Perhaps they were reaching for it--returning. Or escaping? "Bones are like...soup!" he exclaimed, as he spun around to grab the salt and pepper. "Steam. Some bones are like steam." She roared with laughter as he imagined having a gaseous skeleton. Some bones just want to get out, maybe, he thought. Like steam in the broth. CC-BY-SA-NC 4.0 mieum@rawtext.club