The season finale ended and I was alone, so I did the dishes.
That's when Clara's words came back. She said it while scrubbing a pot in the community kitchen.
She told me about her husband, the one she lost twenty years ago. She never said it at dinner or over coffee.
I thought about my twin, how we used to trade coats. This hand-me-down is still one size too big.
In the desert, the nights are cold. The coat hangs on the chair, sleeves dangling.
Clara said the only time she could talk about him was when her hands were busy.
That's the truth. Late nights, dishes, that's when the real thoughts come.
I dried a plate and thought about all the things I never said to my sister.
Maybe next time, I'll say them while washing a cup.