The Visitor

Sandra turned the natural gas on underneath the stainless steel frying pan. She dropped a generous dollop of homemade butter in the pan and enjoyed the satisfying sizzle, and pop along with the heady odor that warming butter exuded.

On the wooden cutting board, steeped with memories handed down to Sandra from her Gramma Elisa, were aromatic fresh garden herbs Sandra harvested this morning. Her mouth watering in anticipation of her meal. She dropped chopped onions into the butter and listened to the satisfying sizzle.

The doorbell rang and Sandra hastily wiped her hands on her jeans and ran to answer the door.

The young girl who lived nearby was. on her porch steps. She looked up with tears in her eyes, "Please, miss, can I use your telephone? Mom is lying on the floor in the dining room and she won't open her eyes!"

Sandra reached into her jeans pocket and handed her a cell phone. A smell of burning onions drifted to the door and Sandra exclaimed, "I'll be right back!"

Sandra walked with the little girl across the road two houses North to the little girl's home. As she walked, she prayed fervently that the little girl's Mom would be awake and everything would be okay.

She entered the house from the kitchen and crossed to the dining room. The Mom lay motionless. Sandra pulled the little girl closer and asked her to go sit in the kitchen and she'd be right there.

A siren whine could be heard fast approaching. She bent down and put her hand close to the woman's nose. She felt no warmth. Her eyes went toward the kitchen and her heart squeezed as the ambulance pulled into the drive she heard doors open and the crunch of boots on gravel.

This is my five-minute freewrite
using prompt herb garden by Hive account@felt.buzz. I challenge you to join the challenge and add Hive account@freewritehouse for regular contests!

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Today I posted content
Tuesday I'll Burn Alive
Wednesday I work and stream church
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