With her free hand, she was scrubbing a heavy cooking pot.
A dry piece of bread rested between her lips because she had not even been given enough time to sit down and eat.
Her shirt was damp with sweat.
Her cheeks appeared hollow.
Her wrists looked alarmingly thin.
As soon as she noticed me, the bread slipped from her mouth.
“Connor... your mother told me I’m not allowed to stop yet. I still need to serve the coffee.”
I carefully lifted Frederick from her arms.