Third Person POV
The afternoon was quiet in the way that afternoons were quiet in places where not much happened.
A woman was spreading clothes on a wire strung between two posts at the side of the house.
Her brown hair was packed into a high bun, loose strands escaping around her face and catching the light.
Her arms moved in a rhythm that did not need thinking about anymore… lift, shake, pin, smooth.
The wet laundry basket sat at her feet, heavy enough that she had carried it out in two trips.
Besides it, a small boy was working.
He could not have been more than four or five. His brown hair had fallen completely over his forehead and he had not bothered to push it back.
His arms strained with each piece he tried to lift from the basket, the wet fabric far heavier than he had anticipated, his little face going tight with the effort.
