Martha side-steps her way past the busy work tables toward the back of the wood-shop. “Tom, where are you? Tom!”
“Mom, you’re early.”
“I know, but we gotta go. Pew, it smells in here,” says Martha brushing sawdust from her sleeves.
“That’s the tung oil wood finish reacting with maple. It’ll dissipate. Wanna see what I made?”
“Maybe next time,” and Martha suddenly gasps when she sees the exquisite hope chest with birds, hearts and the word ‘MOM’ engraved on the lid.
“It’s something for you to store your hopes in Mom, so you won’t ever lose them.”
I wrote this in response to Charli Mill’s April 27th Flash Fiction Challenge. In 99 words (not more, not less) write a story that includes oil. As always, she suggests we go where the prompt leads us.