The Blanket
Disclaimer: I own nothing! But the love of writing! :)
Erik Lensherr had a favorite blanket. It was an old tattered looking blanket, about Erik's height alone. Charles noted that the blanket was hand sewn together and had Erik's initials sewn onto the bottom right.
It was early one Monday morning when Erik came slowly walking into the kitchen. He had his blanket wrapped around his shoulders and he looked like he could use a cup of coffee.
"Morning, Erik, sleep well?" Charles asked, pouring Erik and himself some coffee.
Erik yawned and stretched out his arms like a cat. "Not that great. I'm still getting used to sleeping on a marshmallow."
Charles laughed at that. "Yeah, well you'll get used to it, mate."
Erik nodded and pulled his blanket around himself tighter.
Charles noticed this. "So, what's with the blanket?"
Erik looked up at his friend. "It's cold in here."
"Well, I figured that! Just the blanket in general, is it like a relic or something?" Charles asked, with growing curiosity.
Erik sighed, the awful memories filling his mind. "It was given to me. My mother had sewn it for me when I was a baby. I've had it with me ever since."
"Oh, well your mother did a wonderful job on it. I'm sure she'd be very happy to know you've kept it all these years." Charles smiled, going back to sipping his coffee.
Erik smiled. "I'm sure she would."