Part III: Family

He sat back and leaned against the wall. He had been writing on alow wooden form, the sole piece of furniture in the one-room house. There, he sat in one corener. A little way acroos stood the stove; to his right, Fidela and the baby girl, Felipa, lay under the hempen mosquito net. Francisco, who had been out all afternoon looking for one of Ka Inse's carabaos that had strayed away to the newly-planted rice clearings along the other side of the Tablas river, was here, too, sprawling beside a sack of palay by the doorway. He snored lightly, like atired youth; but he was only twelve.
The kerosene lamp's yellow flame flickered ceaselessly. The dank smell of food, of fish broth particularly, that had been spilled from many a bowl and had dried on the form, now seemed to rise from the very texture of the wood itself. The stark truth about their poverty, if Lito's nature had been sensitive toit, might have struck him with a hard and sudden blow then; but, as it was, he just looked about the room, even as the smell assailed his nostrils, and stared now at the mosquito net, now at Francisco as he lay there by the door. Then he continued with his letter.

Author's Note

I really don't have any ideas for a title. But i guess family could be the alternate. Is it okay?