The sitting room is quiet and she can only hear the soft ticking of the clock.
Outside it is dark and chilly. The house is shut up tight and cooking smells from the kitchen still linger. Inside it is warm. Mid evening is late for them. He is watching the replay of a game through oversize earphones. The television sits in the corner, silently flickering with colour, with players chasing across a field. He suddenly smiles and words form on his lips, making some comment about what one of the players should have done. She glances up at his movement, then returns to her magazine. She is engrossed in an article about a favourite celebrity.
The empty chasm between them is vast, despite it being a small room. The absent members of the family that once bound them inextricably together are no longer there.
He grunts at a foul given.
She turns a page, intrigued.
…and who’s to say they are not perfectly content with life as it is.