Deep, deep, black snow covers the abandoned street. Soft footprints imprinted in the darkness. Small figers dash down the streets. Many late, many early. Some distraught, some confused. All thinking about the hard day's labour ahead.
Leo and I rushed, too and fro, to each little house collecting the crisp laundry so we could iron it. We run, we skip, we laugh, we wonder where the days will take us. Our thoughts on family and where we once lived.
We take our rounds twice in the mornings and thrice at tea time. Rinse, scrub, press, iron, fold. Rinse, scrub, press, iron, fold. Rinse, scrub, press, iron, fold. With household chores in-between time. Some days we don't get time to do the extra chores. The work load increases some days for us and others it is the minimal load.
But this is not just about our work but our lives as well. And everyone else's as well.
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Life In 19th Centaury
Short StoryA short piece of text explaining life in Victoria England.
