“Omelet’s ready,” came her mother’s voice from the kitchen.
“Coming,” she called back, and went back to the kitchen, leaving her pack on her bed to recheck after breakfast.
Her mother was sliding her omelet onto a plate as she entered the kitchen. Mirka went over to get the plate, then got a fork from the drawer, and sat down at the table.
“Smells delicious,” she said as she cut her first bite and nibbled gingerly at the steaming morsel, “and tastes just as good.”
“Thank you.”
Mirka continued to munch her way through the green bean, broccoli, and onion omelet laced through with melted cheese. Her dad watched with some amusement. “Don’t rush through the freshies. Come winter you’ll be longing to have them back.”