Scrub, scrub, scrub. The counter was clean, long past clean, long past perfect, but still Amelia passed the cloth over its pristine surface. It kept her mind off Edwin's absence. Seven a.m., and he was still "at the office." The breakfast she'd set out was now cold, but she'd covered the dishes and begun cleaning up afterward just like normal. If she turned around, she'd see the pretty, flower-printed covered dishes on the table and remember he was still gone. No, better to stand in the sunshine and clean the counters and try to forget, if she could. Yep, those were sure some clean counters. She wasn't totally useless.
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