A faint coffee stain marked the grout beside the kitchen counter.

Iris stared at it for so long that Lena gently asked if she wanted to leave.

“Not yet,” Iris said.

She opened the curtains.

Sunlight fell across the dining table.

The ring was gone; she’d taken it with her belongings, placed inside a small envelope because she wasn’t ready to decide what to do with it.

The police report copy remained in her files.

On the kitchen island sat an unopened packet of seed catalogues addressed to her.