A small ceramic dish on the table in the entryway sat empty, catching dust particles whorling in the dark. The little blue boat was scratched and chipped from the careless tossing of car keys and coins in the dark late at night. The apartment was dark and silent in empty absence. White shades on the first-floor windows, overlooking the noisy street were rolled up letting the moon shine in and reflect on scratched wood floors.

The first point of reference, after dropping off the keys, was the refrigerator. Half of a solitary container of cottage cheese and one smooth egg had been there for over a week. The remaining items in the fridge; five black olives, a carton of soy milk, a single portion of apricot yogurt, the last bottle of Perrier, and some drooping lettuce, had been consumed slowly over the last seven days. Near empty, the fridge had a stale smell now and the cottage cheese stood lonely on the centre shelf waiting with an apathetic listing.

Maybe, just maybe there would be carrots, cucumber and onion salad like there had once been at picnics, tomatoes from the market, orange juice for breakfast. And a bottle of wine. A bottle of chilled white wine to drink while the sun went down. The glass resting in the crook of fingers while sitting on the window ledge to see the colours flashing purple, orange and navy in the sky. There had not been any wine to put in the fridge for ages.