Ordinary Magic

This one took me straight back to my grandmother’s kitchen. The old fridge humming like it had a secret life of its own, a bowl of fruit always just within reach, and sunlight pouring in at odd angles like it was testing the room.

I remember sitting at the table, swinging my legs, tracing patterns in the light on the lino floor. Back then, the fridge seemed impossibly tall, the lemons impossibly bright, and the whole kitchen a kind of stage where ordinary things turned magical once the sun found them.