Kristen hummed quietly, stirring a sauce pot. Pasta boiled nearby. She sampled the sauce, eyes closed, remembering.
In the dining room, plates were on their placemats, utensils arranged on napkins. Kristen clicked her tongue, dissatisfied, then readjusted them until they were perfect.
Doug came through the front door and froze in the hallway. His mouth opened slightly at the sight of the three place settings. Kristen smiled at him hopefully, but he couldn’t meet her eyes.
“He’s gone, Kristen. Why…” He choked on the question.
“But it’s spaghetti night. His favorite.”
Doug walked away, the unbearable emptiness of Nathan’s seat following him.