katrea | what you sow

On the doorstep of a townhome in New York City, a basket is placed.

The doorbell rings.

There are footsteps, and then there are not.

"What if it is a long time?"

Elizabeth shrugs. "Dunno."

"Hmm."

She plops herself down in a kitchen chair.

The unbasketgirl tries to climb into another one, falls on her butt, and tries again successfully.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Unbasketgirl swings her legs and looks around the kitchen thoughtfully. "What if I don't have parents after all?"

"You have somebody," says Elizabeth. "The question's if Chris can find them or not."

"What if they aren't findable, then?"

"Then I guess you stay."

"Here?"

"Yeah. If you want," says Elizabeth.

"Okay," shrugs unbasketgirl.

"I don't know for sure if Chris will let you stay forever," she feels compelled to mention, "but I bet she will."

"Where else would I go?"

"I dunno."

"What kinda places are there in the world?"

"...What kinds of kinds do you mean?" she wonders. "Like houses and schools, or like towns and cities?"

"I don't know. All the kinds. Places to go if I can't just stay here."

"Well, you could go to somebody else's house, I guess," she says. "I don't know who, though."

"Is it nice here?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." The unbasket girl yawns.

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