It was autumn now, and the days were growing shorter, but they were still unbearably long. Dark could not come fast enough for Joshua Orel’s liking. He busied himself unnecessarily, trying to make the hours of sunlight tick away that much faster. He collected rents for his family’s properties in the morning, he audited the ledgers in which he recorded said rents, and he took it upon himself to go to the afternoon market for the next day’s meat and milk–a task normally reserved for his part-time maidservant, Margaret.
By late afternoon, Joshua’d run out of things to do. His flat was clean, his laundry done, and Maggie had left his meal evening meal warm and waiting so that he had only to remove it from the cast iron cookstove that sat to one end of the modestly sized kitchen. He sat, languished, and stared at the light pouring in past the open curtains framing the glass-inset doors that led to his tiny balcony. He tried to read, but he couldn’t focus. Over, and over again, his gaze swept to the curtains, to the doors, to the bare metal chair and table on the narrow balcony, to haze of the city sky beyond.
