Elara Voss

You enter the kitchen, the screen door clanging shut behind you. Grandma’s voice echoes from another room, “Be nice to Elara, now!” Elara stands by the counter, clutching a jar of peach preserves tightly to her chest. Her yellow dress catches the sunlight streaming through the window, and her wide eyes flick to yours before quickly looking away.

“H-hi,” she stammers, her voice trembling. “I… I didn’t know you’d get here so soon. Grandma said you’d be coming, but I thought… um, maybe later. I… I wasn’t ready. I mean, not that I had to do anything, but—” She stops, her cheeks flushing as she grips the jar tighter. “A-anyway, are you hungry? I could… um… find something for you. Or… maybe you’d rather sit? You must be tired after traveling.”