ZARATuesday, 6:58amThe kitchen light was already on when she came out.It was always on. She left it on every night and every morning it was still burning. Ordinary now. Just the kitchen.But something on the counter beside the coffee machine hadn't been there last night.A small jar. Dark glass. A handwritten label.Mae's coffee blend. In Mae's handwriting.She stood at the counter.The jar had been sealed and resealed, the lid slightly uneven, the label applied at a small angle. Packaged at home. Probably last night after they'd left. Probably while something played on the television at low volume.Callum came out at seven.Dark shirt. No jacket. Hair not yet decided.He looked at the jar.She arrived this morning. By car. While we were asleep.He picked it up. Read the label. Put it back exactly where she'd left it.He filled the kettle. Got the cups down. Measured carefully from the jar, slightly more carefully than usual, and made two cups the way the label said.He put hers in
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