Evelyn settled onto the couch cushions, pulling a star-littered fleece blanket up over her lap. She opened her battered copy of Of Human Bondage, just bought at a used bookstore in town. There was a note inside the front cover “For my Liza, with love. Jeremy, Christmas 1916.” She smiled, running her fingers over the coarse edges of the pages and breathing in the familiar musty smell of an old book, a comfort in these troubling times.

She flipped gingerly past the title page and began reading… After a few chapters she tucked a satin ribbon between the pages and set the book down, growing tired and thirsty as the night progressed. She stood up and walked toward the kitchen, the worn rug snuggling against her toes. She walked through the doorway and flipped the lightswitch. The fluorescent lights hummed quietly as they flickered on. She padded to the fridge to retrieve the milk, began heating it in a sauce pan on the stove. Through the kitchen window, the backyard stretched away to the darkened woods.