A very short story by me, Tea.
The Lonely Old Woman
I live in an old apartment building and the window in my kitchen looks directly into my neighbor’s. She is a little old woman whose hair is gray and soft on her shoulders. Her hunched back makes her midsection into a perfect U. Although her body is covered with waves of wrinkly skin, I can tell that she was a graceful beauty back in her day. Every night she spends hours in her kitchen preparing amazing meals. She always sets her table for two, along with her finest china. As she brings out the plates she always smiles at the setting across from her. Slowly she lowers into her chair and looks lovingly across the table. All during dinner her mouth is moving, spouting out words whether food is in her mouth or not. She is just so excited to tell about her day. As I look across the table from her I see the same empty seat every night. Three years ago her husband passed on from heart failure. I often wonder if she knows her husband is dead, or if her mind still sees him there, sitting across from her, staring lovingly into her wrinkled face.