Sage strolled into her parents’ home that morning. She could perceive the scent of herbs and spices even before she even reached the kitchen.
She hesitated at the doorway, her hand brushing the frame, watching her mother’s back bent slightly as she moved about in the kitchen.
“Good morning, Mother,” Sage greeted, smoothing her tone. She crossed the threshold with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She wasn't particularly in a good mood, but she knew her mother well enough to know she needed to drop that mood.
Her mother turned briefly, giving her a quick glance before returning to the pot. “Morning,” she replied, her voice clipped.
Sage pulled out a chair at the breakfast table and sat down, folding her arms on the wooden surface. “What are you making?” she asked, trying
