A Mother’s Touch
@bashfulbunnyalyse
As Whitney cooked, she kept some of her attention on Alyse, sitting too still in the living room and offering no sound other than slow breaths. She frowned as she stirred the soup, imagining positive thoughts and love pouring into the simmering dinner. It wasn’t anything special, nor was it exactly a favorite but it would offer some comfort. At least that was Whitney’s goal. There was no greater pain than to feel unwanted or unloved.
Whit expertly carried two bowls of the tomato broth and veggie creation into the living room and tried to offer Alyse a small smile. “Honey?” she tried to gain Alyse’s attention as she approached. Without a response, Whitney placed the soup down on the closest sturdy surface to Alyse and gently placed her hand on the young’s shoulder. “Alyse?”