The chair was just as she left it when she got up to make that last cup of tea, her broad red shawl left spilling over the cushions, a magazine discarded, open to the page she had been reading – was going to read when she returned.
But something happened as she stood in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil.
A footstep, then a familiar presence, close beside her.
“Hello love, I came back for you like I said I would. Sorry it took me so many years.”
Her neighbour found the side door open and the house empty.