217 Babel Street | Apartment 15
The salt on the kitchen windows made them look so dirty at this time of year. The low light seemed to catch each unevenly spattered molecule of dirt. In an hour or two, when the sun had moved further to the west, round towards the side of the building, you wouldn't notice it any more. Julietta wished she'd cleaned them, but there was hardly the time now.
She opened the fridge door to check if the Pinot she'd bought was cool yet, putting fingers round the glass neck. Unconvinced, she lifted the bottle out and laid it against her cheek. Disappointingly, it didn't seem much colder than when she had put it in there, an hour ago.
Squatting down in front of the fridge, she peered past cottage cheese. The air inside smelt grey, thick with mould spores. There were things she really should throw out. She could poison herself with half of what was in there. She put her hand inside to test the temperature. Was it any cooler than the rest of the kitchen? Instead, she opened the freezer and forced the bottle in next to the sugar snap peas.
But maybe he'd prefer tea at this hour, anyway. She opened the fridge door again to sniff at the milk, half expecting it to have turned, but it smelt OK. Small mercies.