[Novel] White Porridge

I

On a winter morning, while the world is still holding its breath, Sumiko lights a fire in the kitchen.
Deep in the soot-stained earthen floor, she drops rice and water into an old clay pot and stirs it slowly with a wooden ladle.
The cold that bites at her fingertips eventually melts into the warmth of white steam.
This moment alone was the beginning of her day.

The rice loosens, and the water turns cloudy white. That whiteness is softer than snow, quieter than clouds, and somehow nostalgic.
In that whiteness, Sumiko remembers the face of her late mother.
The warm porridge her mother made for her when she was sick as a child—the white back then was this same color.

II

It was after his father's death that Yu, a boy from next door, began to visit Sumiko's house from time to time.
While his mother was out working, Yu would show his face in Sumiko's kitchen after coming home from school.
"Is it porridge again today?"
"Yes. It's the best thing on a cold day."

Yu nods silently and stares intently at Sumiko's hands.
The white in the pot bubbles and breathes, enveloping the air in the room.
Sumiko realizes: this white is a color that heals someone.

III

One day, Yu was crying.
He said he had hit a friend at school.
Sumiko asked nothing and put the pot on the fire.
Before long, without a sound, the white filled the room.
"Porridge, you see, is a food that makes you wait."
"...?"
"If you rush, it burns. If it burns, it's bitter. But if you wait, it becomes soft."

Beyond the steam, Yu lifted his face, blurred by the white.
Sumiko's voice and her white breath drifted together, becoming a single kindness.

IV

When signs of spring appeared, Sumiko fell ill.
Yu began to stand in the kitchen on his way home from school.
He washed the rice, measured the water, and lit the fire.
Just as Sumiko had done.
To keep it from burning, he simply waited quietly for the white.

Sumiko smiles from her futon.
"It smells good."
"Yes. It will be ready soon."
The white steam enveloped the two of them.
That white was pale, deep, and gentle, as if it were a continuation of a memory.

V (Final Chapter)

After Sumiko passed away, Yu continued to visit the house.
The white in the pot would swell and then settle again.
He felt that Sumiko was still alive within him.
The white was no longer a color of sorrow.
It was a remnant of life and a form of warmth.

Yu whispered softly.
"It's a good white today, too."

The steam wavers.
Outside the window, late snow was dancing.
The white fell upon the white, gently wrapping the world in its embrace.

—End—

#NovemberLiteratureTheme #November5th #WarmPorridge #White
#ShortStory #ShortShort #SS #Novel #CreativeWriting