“I could see the ring of grease around the upper edge of the tilted plates where the sink had been left full until the water went cold. I had pulled the plug out myself the night before, looking at my face in the black mirror of the night window, at the sharp silver-grey patches that had suddenly appeared in my hair at the temples. I thought that sometime in the morning the sink would get filled again with hot, soapy water and the dishes would be washed. But morning came and still they sat there..., waiting. Through the narrow gap of the half-opened bedroom door, I could see a wedge of green sheets, crumpled in heaps like big round-topped waves, the comforter down on the floor. The bed unmade again, thrown back, thrown apart, the sheets and blankets looking as if they had been discarded as unnecessary. That’s the way she got up, the way she always had: just flinging the bedclothes back as if they weren’t even there, padding away on bare feet to whatever morning errand she’d already set her mind to.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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