High ceilings echoed with the clink of Wedgwood syncopated with the metronomic tick of knitting needles.
The Nyxon sisters worked surrounded by a mountainous cloth expanse. Rills, peaks and gullies draped every surface except for an Arts and Crafts occasional table piled precariously with delicate tea things.
Nona leant forward teasing wool from a large skein.
"Surely it's time to cast off now?" said Moira.
"I can't find the end," said Aisha.
"How peculiar." Moira had stopped knitting, watching Aisha hold scissors aloft, thumbing the multicoloured yarn through her thin fingers.
"Just cut it in the middle," snapped Nona.
"Ah!" Aisha wagged her finger. "Each gets their full term."
Moira leaned in, Nona too. Where the ends joined the fabric the thread had intertwined and double knit, inextricably with another.
"This one we watch." Moira pointed. "This could be trouble."
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