On Mulberry Street

Its cord stretched the length of the tiny kitchen, she cradled the phone behind her ear and listened to the breathless voice detail the outfits to be modeled at the upcoming parish fashion show.  She absent-mindedly scraped a bit of applesauce off Charles' chin and popped it back into his mouth.

"I'm happy to wear whatever you think best, Martha" she slid into the gap between evening wear and bridal gowns.  Frankly, the only evening wear she coveted these days was a thick down comforter, and when it came to bridal gowns, she already had two neatly packed away in the back of the closet.  "Keepsake for your daughter" the boxes advertised in looping white script, though she'd never wish the need for a second on her oldest.

Charles squirmed as she wiped his face and plopped him onto the floor, where he promptly headed straight for the window, pressing both hands and nose flat against the glass, waiting for who knew what to come down the quiet street.  Maybe Patty had read him To Think that I saw it on Mulberry Street one too many times?  

"Just let me know what sort of shoes to bring and I'll be there."  

"Yes, yes, mmm, yes.  Bye." Click.  Martha vanished from her consciouness like a burst soap buble.

She breathed in the silence, dropped the spoon into the soapy water in the sink, and wiped her hands on the dishtowel tied around her waist.  Sliding open the drawer nearest the stove, she pulled out a lined yellow pad.  Lines curled around the page, like so many doodles.  Could she steal a few minutes?