A few strands of hair tickled the inside of her ear as she stood above the sink washing dishes. She lifted one shoulder slightly and tilted her head toward it to move the annoying culprit.

She stared at the tile rooster in front of her and thought how nice it must be for those people who have windows above their sinks. They can see the world outside.

She imagined kids playing in a yard just past an old oak tree. They would laugh and scream in delight as they played tag or hide-and-seek in the dusky, orange sunlight. Their bellies were probably full of mom’s spaghetti and meatballs. One day that would be her window, those would be her kids. She smiled.

She focused again on the rooster, it suddenly seemed almost lovely. It wore a smirk as if it were aware of its own irony. With one bubbly finger she scratched the little guy’s head.

From behind, he wrapped his arms around her waist and snuggled gently into her neck. His beard tickled. She lifted one shoulder slightly upward and tilted her head toward it.