So the house was empty again. Doors were opened, windows aired, the piano came back to life.
The basement cleaned out, the trash cleared, until not a trace of the girl remained.
The woman had always been disappointed in things. Disappointed with her life, disappointed with her job, and the girl was equally disappointing. It was a point with her, really. To always be disappointed. That’s why she screwed up her mouth and her nose at anything that disagreed with her, as if they disagreed with her stomach and was about to make her very ill.
Perhaps it was because of her sugar free diet. With a diabetic husband, and a personal disinclination to gluten, there was not much to enjoy in the way of food.
Perhaps it was that she had no grandchildren. Since both sons had no intention to settle down, as the more selfish members of Generation Y are wont to do nowadays, there was not a flicker of a hope of any grandchildren brightening up the house. And Andras was 70. They celebrated his birthday with artificially sweetened kifli and a bottle of wine.
It was going to be another disappointing winter. Perhaps they would not do christmas after all.