[Pauline's House]
The afternoon sun filtered softly through the tall windows of the sitting room, painting pale gold across the carpet.
Pauline sat by the window with a cup of tea cradled in both hands. The tea had long gone cold, untouched but she hadn't noticed.
Her gaze was fixed somewhere far beyond the garden outside, distant and unfocused.
Margaret noticed like she always did.
Margaret lowered herself into the armchair across from her, cane resting against the side, eyes sharp despite the years.
She studied Pauline for a long moment—too long for it to be casual.
"You have been quiet," Margaret said finally. "Too quiet."
Pauline blinked, as if pulled back into the room. "I am fine," she replied automatically.
Margaret raised an eyebrow. "That answer alone tells me you are not."
Pauline attempted a smile but it didn't reach her eyes.
Margaret leaned back slightly, folding her hands over the top of her cane. "Is this about Jack?"
