STELLA

The soft clinking of dishes echoed through the empty house as I wiped them and cleaned down the kitchen counters.

The smell of chamomile tea still lingered in the house. James’s mother had already gone to sleep I was so glad she was getting better.

We had dinner together and I had made sure she ate well, tucked her blanket properly, and even massaged her hands when she complained about the ache in her wrists.

Some parts of her hands were still bruised, and no one had really ...