93

Madeline rose quietly so as not to wake him. Her feet touched the floor, a pleasant chill. She opened the curtains a little wider. The morning sky was pale, clean, with no striking clouds. A bird perched on a power line, still for a moment before taking flight.

In the kitchen, Madeline switched on the small light beneath the cabinets. She prepared water for tea, listening to the soft sound as the flame caught. Her movements were not efficient, not fast and that was intentional. She wanted to feel every step of this morning.

The kettle began to hiss softly. Madeline took two cups and placed them side by side. She added a thin slice of lemon to one of them, as was Nathaniel’s habit. The scent of tea slowly filled the room, mingling with the still-fresh morning air.

She was pouring the water when footsteps sounded at the edge of the kitchen.

“Morning,” Nathaniel’s voice was low, still carrying traces of sleep.

Madeline turned.