The sound seemed to be coming from the dining room. Slightly trembling, the young girl gently crept over towards the door and cautiously took a peek through the small crevice.
In the middle of the dining room, a small candle shone weekly on top of an unsteady wooden table.
The candlelight outlined a silhouette of a woman, a woman with broad shoulders. One can easily tell that her large stature was the result of years of hard manual labor.
The child opened the door ever so slightly to obtain a better sight. She did not want to alert her mother outside, but the curiosity overcame her better judgment.
Strangely that night, the young girl’s mother did not have the commanding presence that she usually had. She looked weaker and older under the flickering lights.
“Worn out,” muttered the young girl, as she continued to observe her mother.
The young girl’s mother was slouching slightly into the candlelight, with her bony hands busily working on a piece of handiwork
“What on earth can she be knitting this time of the night?”