Her kitchen is small and dark because it has no windows, though it does have two doorless doorways, one near the apartment’s main entrance and the other leading in and out of what was once a dining area but is now her office because, though she can cook, she doesn’t really enjoy it and she’s not the type to throw dinner parties like he once did, so a small table in the corner is now good enough.
She doesn’t think much about the lack of natural light in the kitchen until late fall or early winter, after the clocks have been turned back an hour, when the afternoon sun starts lowering itself right outside the window next to the desk in her office that was intended to be a dining room, and that light pushes through the window, through the edges of the blind, through the doorless doorway, and then into her kitchen.
Sometimes, alone at her desk, she lets her eyes follow the light and she imagines him stepping out of it, holding a sauce-dipped spoon—offering up a taste.
Grey Sparrow Journal 