shook her head. “I like knowing you used it.” She opened her own bag and produced an envelope full of Marian’s older notes. One carried a correction to a measurement and, underneath, a reminder not to worry if dinner was late.
When it was time to leave, neither proposed replacing the letters with a group chat. They exchanged a photograph in the doorway, promised to arrange another visit and returned to the ordinary distances of their lives. The meeting had not made their old habit obsolete. It had given it a new sound.
A week later, Marian received a familiar envelope. Inside was a recipe for a small tea cake. At the bottom Beth had written, “Store-bought bread was exactly right.” Marian put the kettle on before she began her reply.
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