She labelled every jar on the shelf: 'Dill', 'Damson', 'Dates', 'Despair'.
He frowned at that one.
'Just a joke,' she said, smiling.
He smiled back but looked away.
Later, after he'd gone out again, she stood in the kitchen with her hands still damp from the washing up.
She reached for the final jar. Unclipped the lid.
The smell was distantly familiar: something sour beneath the sugar. She held it to her nose for a long time, as if she might recognise it.
Then she set it down gently, wiped her hands, and relabeled it: 'Deceit'.
The lid clicked shut.
DEBRA BATTERSBY is semi-retired after a varied career in education, and runs a small Acceptance and Commitment Therapy-informed coaching practice from home in Cumbria. Alongside writing and coaching, she enjoys painting, and exhibits work locally. Her story 'Mr Tempus and the Pocket of Stars' appeared in Issue 107 of Mslexia.