Smoke stacks. The cat curled in the rose fold sheets, dozing in the warmth kept by the frosted glass. Coffee in the hall. Piano in the kitchen. An electric fire burbles. Sausages sizzle in the pan and bread toasts on the grill. One naps on the sofa, another on their phone, wrapped in a throw. A third rests their hand on their head at the breakfast bar, a fourth watches the sausages. Orange juice slips into a glass, frothing. There’s room for talk, but it’s left empty. Bliss fills in.
Paddy Dobson
26th December 2020