Kathryn J. Stevens

An Ordinary Day

It’s an ordinary Saturday. The radio says it’ll be a hot one. You put on an ordinary cotton dress. The grocery list is on the table – coffee, butter, eggs, milk, just ordinary things. You wonder if you’ll have time to pick up his shirts at the cleaners, the way you ordinarily do. You check the clock. It’s late. Grabbing your coffee mug, you head to the sink. Coffee splashes on the floor. Vexing, but ordinary. As you reach for a sponge, the phone rings. Annoyed, you ignore it. The phone stops. It begins to ring again. Uneasy, you answer…. It will be a long time before anything is ordinary again.

bedroom closet
the emptiness
of empty hangers