A Place to Return To

They didn’t rent this place for the view, although it helps. They rented it for the chair — the one that catches the light mid-morning and holds it just long enough for a second cup of tea. Nothing here is rushed. The lamp gets turned on even when it doesn’t need to be. The window stays open a fraction, year-round, because the harbour sounds better slightly uninvited.

Most afternoons pass without much ceremony. A book left face-down, a plant watered only when it looks offended, the boats drifting past like background thoughts. If someone knocks, it’s usually ignored — not out of rudeness, just preference. Some rooms are better when they’re allowed to keep their own schedule.