The old woman woke to find something had gotten in her knitting basket and had unravelled and strewn the yarn through the whole house. She followed the white Shetland from the living room to the kitchen, rolling it up as she went. Twice around the table, then up the stairs to the small bedroom her son once inhabited.
A heavy blanket of dust covered the room. Everything just as he’d left it.
The old woman sat on the edge of the bed, and used the ball of yarn wrapped about her hand to wipe the sudden tears from her eyes.
Prompt courtesy of the Daily Post.