“Come on, take a bite for me.” She pushes the spoon against the pale lips.

“Okay, fine. Don’t. I’m gonna go put the soup in the fridge. We can try again later.” She drops the spoon into the bowl, and it clatters loudly. Soup spills on the floor.

“I’ll clean that up. I know you hate it when your carpet’s got stains. I remember these things.”

She shoves the soup bowl into the fridge amongst the saran-wrap-covered homemade lasagnas, macaroni and cheeses, and pot pies that people have been giving her in a constant stream. There’s a few potted plants in there too. She figures that they’ll do better in there. Nice and cool. The cactus and fern seem happier already, maybe a little squished, but they get it. They understand.

She grabs a mop, a bucket, and a bottle of white wine from the cabinet. She’s always had a firm belief that white wine can get a stain out. She lugs it all into the sunroom and mops up the splatter of soup. She scrubs hard, pressing into the sun-lightened pattern. Bubbles emerge from the mop, seeping into the thick wool carpet.

“Alright. That looks fine to me.” A sullen, grey wetness has outspread to twice the size of the stain, and she can smell the perfume of the many feet that have tread here.

“What do you think? Not bad, eh?” She nods for the old woman, and lifts the bucket to her lips, draining what’s left of the wine. Someone knocks at the door.

“Be right back, ok? You just wait here.” She tucks the blanket in around her. The old woman glares outside with filmy blue eyes, disapproving of the state of things.

“Miss,” he clears his throat, and begins immediately as she opens the door. “Please. We need to bring your mother to…” She slams the door shut, catching a bit of his black peacoat in the door. He begins yelling now. She covers her ears, but she can still hear his muffled shouts,

“We need to bring her to the morgue! Please. She’s decaying right in your home. Can’t you smell the stench?!”

She gets up a while after he’s left and pulls up a chair to the computer. She takes a plant from the fridge, and searches up a buyer for a rare cactus with delicate white and blush-pink blossoms, absentmindedly stroking the plant the whole time.