Persephone

1. Eggs

A/n: story is unedited, typos may be present

"Persephone, dear, do you mind going to the store? I'm making cookies for after dinner, but I guess we don't have any eggs? Do you mind getting some, please?"

Persephone looked up from her book, sticking her thumb between the pages and closing the cover, her mother calling her from the next room over, "Sure, do you want me to get you anything else while I'm there?"

The clinking of metal on metal, spoon against pot, whisk against bowl, resonated through the small cottage as her mother prepared their dinner. Usually she wouldn't go through this much trouble, starting to work on the meal only a couple hours after lunch, but tonight was the night that Persephone's mother was bring home the man she had been seeing, to meet Persephone.

After Persephone's dad had left her and her mother when she was only a few months old, her mother had almost given up on men. She decided that she should spend all her time taking care of her only daughter and maintaining the small cottage the pair shared, just a walk from the small town. In town she worked two jobs, a clerk at the only grocery store during the day and a waitress for the town's famous italian restaurant and pizzeria, Sangrino's.

Today, however, she had taken off, for she had finally met a man that went against all the standards of men she had built over the seventeen years of Persephone's life, and had captured her heart. She was so pleased with him she decided before the relationship progressed further, a date once a week, that he must meet her only daughter and earn Persephone's approval of him. Persephone's mother decided that if this man was truly what she wanted, she must have Persephone be okay with it, she couldn't have a man come into their lives and make changes if her only family didn't like him.

There was a pause in the clanking of pans as Persephone's mother thought for a second on her question, "No, but on your way home can you find some wildflowers? We need a center piece?"

"Alright," checking the page she was on, one hundred fifty two, she closed the book and set it on the coffee table in front of her. Lifting herself from the plush couch, she headed for the door, picking up a pair of brown strappy sandals as she went, "Bye, love you!" She called, before stepping out of the house.