Rose's Job

Puck was exactly 22 months old that day. His second birthday was fast approaching. For breakfast, he trundled his half-eaten waffle around his highchair, pretending that it was an elephant.
Between studies that morning, Linnea made a bowl of cornstarch goo, a sort of liquid/solid, (which Collette thought might have filled the stone which held the sword). Francis landed a poke at it every time he passed. Linnea scowled at him.
“Leave that alone!” she declared. “That is not for you to have. It’s for Puck.”
Francis just grinned and took another stab at the impossible white solution.
During Francis’ math hour(s), Linnea brought in a batch of old buttons, baubles, and earrings to sort on the kitchen counter. The inevitable antagonism soon followed between the two of them as they giggled over ridiculous things and bothered one another.
“Let’s see,” said Linnea, taking up Francis’ calculator, “Francis plus Creole equals…”
“Smarter than you,” Francis retorted with a laugh.
Meanwhile, a small blue glass jar filled with salt, sat on the counter, with a sign beneath it which read:
“Don’t Touch Me — I’m Mummifying.”
“What, is that?” Collette asked Carrie.
“A green strawberry,” said Carrie.
Rose had an interview at OLeif’s place of work that afternoon, and came away with her first professional position, to start in March. She was very pleased, and would, no doubt, easily fit in with the rest of the IT staff. Her official title was labeled, the one and only: “IT Secretary”.
It was a good day, that gray day in February.