Title: Honey
Word Count: 273
Warnings: a distinct lack of Jim
It's really hot out. The Georgia air is thick and heavy, making its presence known in the heavy roll of sweat down their necks.
There isn't a particularly special about the day, a Tuesday in early August. Joanna is sitting on the steps of the porch, watching the dragonflies buzz through the tall grass. Everything moves lazily, moving through the thick golden, sticky air. It reminds her of the slow drip of honey into her Nana's tea every afternoon, of the pull of your finger through thick molasses.
The hands in her hair are warm and sure. They're familiar, really big when they wipe the sweat off the back of her neck. But they never pull or knot her hair, they're gentle. The hands promise piggyback rides and band-aids on skinned knees. They promise of softly spoken stories and hugs on rainy nights.
"Papa?" she asks softly and the hands still, the heavy drop of her hair in a neat plait thumping against her back. Something she didn't intend must have been in her voice because the hands are hot under her armpits and lifting her easily from the hard stair.
"Baby?" her father asks and it is deep grumble like thunder against her back. The knee under her makes her sweat, but she's more comfortable despite it. She smiles up at him and it's easy.
"Thank you," she says, unsure if it's what her daddy is looking for. He smiles anyway and it is just as sweet as the honey she's been thinking of. Everything can be perfect, in the thick heat of the summer, as long as she has her Papa.