She started with a clean white cloth draped casually over the wide-legged expanse of stiff oak planks. She smoothed the fabric with the palm of her hand, coaxing the wrinkles to spread thinly across the entire surface and disappear like wisps of a forgotten dream.
Methodically she moved around the room deliberately spacing each smooth circular dish in front of each chair. She laid each utensil tenderly near its partner and straightened each solid piece on the amply cushioned cotton napkins.
She pushed each velvet covered chair solidly in its correct place closer than she ever placed them before. She was expecting a table full to capacity.

She thrust fresh, stiff, flower stems into the small opening of a deep vase. She thrust more and more, until she couldn’t squeeze another one into the tight space. She leaned far forward and wiggled the vase until she had it in the perfect spot. The room felt right.
She paced back and forth, back and forth, with steaming hot dishes, until the space couldn’t hold another.