Horror

The second breakfast

Mina Keene had unpacked the blue cups once already. Now they were back in the newspaper, and the porridge was cold in the pot as though no one had eaten. The hall clock struck eight for the second time. Outside the window a neighbour's van had moved, proving the entire street had not agreed to begin again. The inherited house had come with a small estate reserve meant for its ordinary repairs. Mina had written cups on the first moving box as though that would make the room straightforward.