3 Chapter 3: Remembrance

Marin wakes to the sound of a knife hitting a wooden chopping block.

"Mmm..." Marin thought. "Breakfast."

He hopped out of his bed, and walked barefoot on the cold wooden floors. He smelled it before he saw it. A delicious fruit strudel, fresh from the oven. In Marin's eyes, his father was a great chef. He had cooked for Marin as long as he could remember, as his mom had passed away before he was born. He never got to know her, even though his dad had regaled many stories.

She seemed like a great mother. He would find himself spending countless hours in his room, procrastinating on his schoolwork.

"Hey Marin, why so glum?" His father said from the kitchen while giving him a perplexed look.

"I'm not, I'm just thinking." Marin muttered.

He sat down on the worn, wobbly stool before his dad could press any more. His father slid a paper plate across the counter to Marin. It was piled to the top with his dad's delicious strudel, but Marin wasn't in the mood. He picked glumly at the strudel, un-interested.

"Eat up!" "Quickly!" his father urged. "Before school starts!"

After no response from Marin, his father whisked away his plate with gusto.

"Tsk Tsk," he muttered, shaking his head. "What's on your mind, Marin?"

Marin hung his head. "Mother."

For a moment, Father seemed so far away, gazing at Marin's picked over plate. He froze in his place.

"I know Marin. I miss her too."

Marin slowly got up, the old stool creaking. He grabbed his blue backpack and rushed out the door, not even bothering to close it. He was late.