BUS STOP

FOR the first time in 25 years, Joe didn’t bring Hannah a cup of tea in bed. Grabbing her robe, she hurried downstairs in time to see the front door close behind him.

For 25 years her morning tea in bed had been a constant. As was the quick – or occasionally lingering – kiss before Joe left for work.

Not today. Maybe never again. Tears stung her eyes as she made her own tea.

Hannah dressed for work and left the silent house. Although it was summer, it seemed the rain was on for the day and she felt chilled as she walked to the bus stop. Cars splashed noisily through deepening puddles as she huddled there, staring unseeing at the traffic.

From nowhere came a memory, a long ago summer day just as wet and