PENELOPE AT HOME Mrs. Park stood at her own doorway, wearing her dressing gown. Her silver hair hung loose, and her face was pale, not just from the early hour. She looked like she was trying to hide how sick she felt because she didn’t want to bother anyone. "Mrs. Park." I stepped closer to her. "Why didn't you call me?" "It's just a cold," she replied. "I didn't want to..." "Come inside." I gently took her elbow and guided her back into her flat. "Sit down. I'll make tea." "What about the baby?" "Nora is fine," I assured her. "She's in the pram. Sit down, please." Then she sat and I made the tea, found her medicine cabinet, gathered the needed items, poured her a glass of water, and placed it beside her on the small table where she usually places my pancakes each time I visit. "You don't have to..." she began. "Mrs. Park," I urged. "Just drink the tea." She drank the tea as I watched her. A slow, heavy feeling settled in me, which I recognized after a while as
Last Updated : 2026-05-21 Read more