Walking the Line: #66 Pace

“Sit down, darling,” Andromeda Black Tonks called from the couch. She didn’t glance up from the dainty white booties she was working at. Tonks was sure she would have impaled herself on a knitting needle long ago, but Andromeda continued on without incident.

“I can’t get up again,” Tonks complained, sliding her hand over her rounded belly. She was slowly wearing a path across the carpet. Door to window and back, day after day. Each footstep was marked time in an eternity without him. Each footstep was another moment since he’d left them, Tonks and their baby. So she paced.