I stood at the bottom of the wooden staircase and looked up at the closed guest room door.

No sound came from behind the painted wood.

Eleanor was gone from me, locked away in her own grief.

I walked into the kitchen and turned on the small light over the sink.

The blue canvas tote bag sat on the granite kitchen island where Eleanor had dropped it when she came inside.

I unzipped the top flap and looked inside.

The box of blueberry muffin mix and the plastic watercolor paints sat untouched at the bottom.