She smoothed her hands across the floral bedspread on her lap and briefly considered pulling it right back up. Easing herself down flat again. Closing her eyes and praying for sleep. But she knew it wouldn’t come. Sleep never seemed to come when she wanted it anymore.

She always used to start the day with a cup of tea in bed. Frank would bring it to her. Place it on the bedside table right where the letter was sitting. Now if she wanted to start the day with a cup of tea she had to get out of bed and make it herself.

Most days she hated him for leaving her. She hated that with Frank gone, it sometimes felt as though she’d lost all of her best parts along with him. Her sense of humour. Her patience. Her compassion. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. They weren’t gone, not completely. They were muted.

She glanced sideways at the folded paper. Considered picking it back up and rewriting it. She’d been far too brusque. Far too dismissive. But then, what else would she say? She had no news to share. No cute little stories.

Besides, she knew full well why she was so cranky today. It was because of the date. The first of December. Christmas was coming and there was no way she could stop it. Her friend Marjory had suggested she do something different this year for the holidays. But Marjory didn’t know why it was so important that Jill stuck with tradition.

She twitched back the covers and placed her feet on the floor. Her whole body seemed to creak and groan. She hated this part of the day, when her bones hadn’t woken yet and they protested against every move. She collected her thick blue dressing gown from the armchair in the corner and pulled it on. It might have been the beginning of summer but she still needed to wear it first thing. This house was always cold in the mornings, and her bones wouldn’t loosen until she warmed up. She slid her feet into her slippers and headed out to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

While the kettle boiled, she leaned against the bench and wondered what she might do today. It was already 11 am, so she’d used up a good portion of the day just lazing in bed, writing to Frank and feeling sorry for herself because there was no one to bring her a cup of tea.