Mommy Miso

Lore

After the house stopped rearranging itself, everyone expected Miso to inspect the repairs. She sat beside Mochi instead. A floorboard can wait. A frightened sister is a more immediate sort of creak.

Mochi’s paws still twitched with last night’s running. Somewhere inside her, an impossible swallowed clock ticked toward a year nobody could visit. Miso pressed her dark forehead gently to Mochi’s. The little headbonk brought her sister back to this room, this breath, this warm place.

Golden light settled around them. The others began calling her Mommy Miso. Andy was still their Mommy Queen. There was room in the household for more than one person to look after somebody, and no shortage of somebody.

Miso did not give a lecture about healing. She stayed until Mochi slept. Outside, enormous suns were doing enormous things. Here, a small forehead had found another small forehead. It was enough work for one evening.