Feeding

Mary Rose took a spoonful of everything from the serving dishes and then turned to take the plate outside. "Honey, don't leave food outside," her mother said. "We don't want to attract rats and strays; it's unhealthy." "I'm not feeding the rats and strays, Mom," Mary Rose said carefully, "and I don't think it's a good idea to stop." Her mother chuckled. "Well, then, what ARE you feeding?" The child simply stared at her mother, unsmiling, and remained silent; a chill passed through the room. "Your call, Mom," Mary Rose whispered then. "It's on you." The house grew quiet, more quiet than it should be (as if it were listening, hanging on every word, getting ready). She stammered and looked around nervously (unable to explain why she felt desperate to look behind her). "Well, okay, Honey," she sputtered. "Just this once won't hurt." Mary Rose didn't nod or smile or giggle; she simply turned and let herself out through the back door. "We'll get rats," the grandmother sulked, but the mother ignored it.