In the end she could only remember two tunes, and she would play them several times a day, because she’d forget that she’d played them already.
The tiled ceramic stove had not been working for decades, only used for keeping useful stuff at hand. Old and worn items mixed with new modern ones. The kitsch of the floral folk ornaments and the simplicity of square tiles. Everything exactly as she had left it, as it had always been, as long as I can remember.