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I scrub et the clay grit off after I finish a new piece, and then unpack the bags of food I brought before e apples, pears, and peaches in a small, wooden bowl and leave a shrink-wrapped loaf of friendship bread atop a ain, as if the eggs, butter, chicken, duck, and various sauces I left there a few hours ago ht have walked away They didn’t

I line ja the wall beside the sink, double-check the seal on three bags of homemade potato chips, and check the pantry for the pasta, canned goods, Pop-Tarts, and bags of popcorn I already know are there I re-fold the towel on the oven—Home Sweet Hoh the living roo down the short hall to the first door on the right, which I’ll leave slightly ajar

It was my mum’s room, but when my parents passed, it became mine It has one , covered with a lace curtain and facing the ocean When I was young, it held a full-sized bed, a bookcase, a dresser, and a rocking chair Now I’ve moved the bookcase into Gae it for shipment on occasions when I sell a piece

I step in front of the vertical, wall-mounted mirror by the dresser and peer at myself Still no wrinkles, no more freckles than I’ve ever had I don’t look older than twenty despite my twenty-seven years I pull , rust-colored locks around my face I blink my yellon eyes, purse my lips, and study my cheekbones…the smooth skin of my throat and collarbones

Will I look like an islander to him? Or just a woman?

I laugh Does it matter? I suppose that shall depend on what I choose to do The s about a need for shts, stepping into the en suite washroom to pull open the curtains

I look out at the vast, gray sea and sine any other life for myself than the one I have Could I have been happy here? If Mum had lived The answer floats up from my bones, a truth too potent to quash

The sea breeze slaps against the panes and whistles through the thatched roof as I tidy up Will our cottage be co? The pristine Aazines or ain, neither is he Asthan commoner

I set my favorite eucalyptus bath crystals on the table by the claw-footed tub and arrange lavender fizzies in a wee bowl These things were mine, once—but they haven’t been for a while Anyway, I don’t

I stroll back into the bedrooht table I step over to the dresser and reach for the framed photo of Mum and me, twin flower halos on our twin red heads…but then I draw my hand away I can’t say precisely why, but it seems important that I leave it in its place, that I let her stay here—perhaps especially now

Another spin through the house with the duster, and I call it ready I linger in the living rooht On a whim, I turn back to the bedroom I fetch a small bottle of rose water fro it into o

Two

Declan

I press the power button on ht

2:49 AM