Author's note: Any characters you recognize are not mine, and no profit is being made from this story.
"More rain? Goodness, are we expecting another flood?"
"Well, Mom, if you see animals walking down Main Street two by two, let me know, and I'll get out my swimming suit." Elizabeth stared blankly at her geometry homework. "Boy, this stuff is ridiculous. It may as well be in code." She glanced surreptitiously into the kitchen where her mother was washing dishes, then stood quietly and padded toward the fruit basket.
"And no, you may not have another apple. You know I'm saving them for the pie for Michael's birthday." Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
"Mom, please, can't I have just a slice? Anything would be better than more tomato soup. And don't get me started on the cottage cheese!"
"Elizabeth Rachel, you should be grateful for what we have. You know why we can't have meat and sugar like we used to. Just think of it as an extra way to help your brother get home faster." Her mother set the last plate in the drying rack, then walked back into the living room and picked up a piece of loose paper. "I bet he'd appreciate a letter from you, you know." Her gaze drifted to the pictures on the mantle - his high school graduation, then West Point, then just before he shipped out - then to the service flag with its blue star (blue, thank you Lord, not gold!) hanging in the window. Elizabeth resisted a bit longer, letting the gloom of the rainy day seep into her mood.
"What's the use? It'll just end up cut to bits by the censors." She thought back to the last letter she'd received from her brother. Dear Mom, Dad, and Elizabeth, I'm fine. The weather is CENSORED. The food is CENSORED. We CENSORED yesterday for the first time in CENSORED. My CENSORED seems to have developed CENSORED. I miss you and love you all. Please send CENSORED and socks. We can always use the CENSORED for CENSORED. I really miss my CENSORED when it's CENSORED. Hope you're all well.
"Oh, just write to him about everyday things. You know how antsy he used to get when you kids were cooped up on rainy days - tell him about your schoolmates, or about Nancy Brooks' new puppy. Oh, I know - tell him about what Nathan said to his English teacher." Elizabeth giggled - her younger cousin, who had much too big of a mouth for his own good, had recently gotten in trouble at school. He had insisted that he'd only called his teacher "close to perfect." Too bad she'd just asked him if she looked like a perfect idiot! Shuffling her homework assignments, Elizabeth plucked out the least smudged piece of flyleaf to start her letter.
"I guess the censors probably won't argue with that. At least it'll make him happy to know that someone's carrying on the tradition of smarting off to people in charge, even when he can't." She tapped the end of the pencil on the kitchen table, then began to write. Poor Robbie. I can't imagine how bored you must be right now.
As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!
