The Washerwoman

Historical fiction

Image by Ryan McGuire from Pixabay

Mili poked at the fire beneath the wash kettle and watched as the water moved to a slow, languid boil.

A bit of winter chill flitted toward her on the breeze, kissing her already rosy cheeks before fluttering away like a frosty moth. The sun, climbing in the sky, fought the chill back; Mili turned her face upward and breathed in the promise of summer. She acknowledged the…