The Table by the Window

For six weeks they exchanged notes about films, badly designed bus stops and the correct amount of cinnamon. June learned that he cared for his father on Thursdays. He learned that she was trying to paint again.

When she suggested meeting, the page stayed blank. She was embarrassed, then angry with herself for being embarrassed. She almost took the book away.

A week later, a folded note appeared. His father had been in hospital. The message was short and tired: I did not mean to disappear. I would like to meet when I can arrive as a person, not an apology.

June wrote: Saturday. No apologies required. Bring your opinion about cinnamon.

Then she went home and painted the café window without trying to make it beautiful.