Toiling

My latest entry in Flash! Friday’s weekly contest with the word prompt “friendship” and the following picture:

“I’m okay,” Talya said.

Every day when Thomas, her half-witted friend in the field, asked her if she was okay, she replied in this manner. Whether her feet were ripped apart, bleeding, scabbing, burning or her back ached. She was always okay.

“Let me git that for ya, Miss Tally,” he would ask, but she refused. And carried the strawberries herself.

When Ryker, the field overseer, admonished her for meager pickings and called her a little worthless runt, she didn’t cry. Thomas would.

That’s what we do; we say we’re okay, even when chaos rages behind our eyes and lying tongues.

Talya told no lie today. After she discovered the three-foot deep creek bed a mile downwind from the field, she knew what she would do.

A wood box meant for ripe strawberries would be well-suited to rocks. She had tested her head through the handle. Should hold her down long enough.

Talya worried what Thomas would think. But proceeded.