Lacemaker

She sits upright in the unpadded wooden chair. Her back is ramrod straight, her ankles are neatly crossed, her toes barely reach the floor. The heels of her shoes touch the rail of the chair where the wood is worn, rubbed by generations of heels. The specially-made arm of the chair holds the plump velvet pillow. Bobbins dangle from their threads all around it like a fringe of carved beads. Her fingers fly and she holds seven, eight, nine bobbins at a time, weaving them between her small flexible fingers too fast for the eye to follow. She is eight years old.


(Crossposted to Great Write Way for this week's Drabble challenge: Knots)

Lacemaker

She sits upright in the unpadded wooden chair. Her back is ramrod straight, her ankles are neatly crossed, her toes barely reach the floor. The heels of her shoes touch the rail of the chair where the wood is worn, rubbed by generations of heels. The specially-made arm of the chair holds the plump velvet pillow. Bobbins dangle from their threads all around it like a fringe of carved beads. Her fingers fly and she holds seven, eight, nine bobbins at a time, weaving them between her small flexible fingers too fast for the eye to follow. She is eight years old.


(Crossposted to Great Write Way for this week's Drabble challenge: Knots)