It was a glorious morning after two days of rain. The sun’s rays flowed through the small bay window bathed the thriving basil and thyme and continued on to the terra cotta tile. At this hour the rays were more warm than hot.

Al took no notice as he sat at the small mosaic-topped bistro table. He read the headline several times. Tree Falls on House. He didn’t feel compelled to read further, to learn what the story was. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about a neighbor’s misfortune; he just could not concentrate, not even after a second coffee.

As usual in the morning, Pam was busy washing their few dishes, leaning into the sink, the faucet running hard. Looking over at her, Al could not understand why a couple of dishes demand so much effort.