It’s been cold in the house since Karina left. There’s an emptiness. A Karina-shaped hole through my heart, just as the cushions on her favourite chair still show the marks of where she sat.
I never stop regretting the argument. What did it matter she’d bought herself a new shawl?
If I could take it back…
I still light the lantern each night, I’d not want to think she might pass this way and miss the house.
I rush with hope to open the door.
No one’s there.
Just a basket – and a smiling infant within.