Lunacy V

          Martiin turned the warmer off under the chicken. "Ah, it's probably overdone, anyway," she murmured.
          Valeron sighed. He looked out the window at the holiday traffic. "Some Thanksgiving, huh?" he said.
          "Well, at least we know we can start eating now. Josaaph's a definite no-show." Martiin took down a large palte for the chicken, then went beneath the sink to pul lout a small pot in which to make the gravy. Every year, she made the fresh, like her Nana used to make. "Some families are just like that," she said.
          "What?"
          Martiin flashed him a small smile. "Some members of the family make it a point to get together for holidays, and others don't consider them so important as what they feel called to do. It doesn't mean that they love their families any less. It means that they hear what they think is a higher calling, or a psychotic urge, or whatever you want to call it. You know, wanting to do something crazy."
          Martiin measured out the flour, then put the larger pot aside from the flame. She ladled some of the juices from the larger pot into the smaller one, then turned the heat to simmer.