This Week’s 3 Randomly Generated Words:
The sharp smell of vinegar stung as Carol poured the brine into the pickling jars. Dozens of them stretched across her counter in neat rows– just like family tradition dictated.
Her heart swelled. ‘Mom would have been proud.’ She thought.
With a clank, Carol set the pot down on the stove and rolled her neck feeling that welcome pop of release. The sun peeked through the curtains. ‘Morning. Already.’
Carol looked at the bloody floor, as red as the carnations she’d placed on her mom’s grave.
‘More cleaning…’ She sighed. ‘But, at least dad will preserve nicely.’