zora weaver. d5. cb. fin.

Her shoulders carry a heavy burden. The lives of six others depend upon how she spreads herself across thin ice. One small step, and one crack expands into the next. It shatters, catastrophe ensues, and everybody drowns.

This is why patience is a virtue.

When a father dies and a woman is left to face motherhood alone, life becomes complicated. To uphold morals means to never lose oneself to emotions. An angry mother is a frightening mother, and an angry sister makes for an unstable role model. As the oldest, Zora chose to help her mother raise the boys. Two women against the world.

Without patience, it would fall apart.

Her head spins, but her brothers anchor her to this world. If she isn't dusting one's toy car collection she is catching frogs with another. If she isn't watching the sunset with the oldest, then she is throwing bread crumbs into the pond with the youngest. Her life is a clock, it never stops. Even as she rests she worries for their safety, thinking about if they all put their homework in their backpacks.

What little time is spared, she uses to spend time with her friends. It does not take much to entertain her: a breath of fresh air, a bike ride through down the market place, a board game with classmates. She enjoys the small crumbs of happiness life sends her way. There is a lot to be sad about, but there is also joy to be found. Without it, where would she be?

She does not want to think about it.