Ethan
I open the fridge again, this time with more intention. I look at it as if it were a small map that I have to decipher.
"Well... let's see what you have here, Clara," I murmur to myself.
I take out the eggs first, then the bread. There is also an avocado, some cheese and a small container with cut fruit. Blueberries, I think.
Not bad at all.
I take a pan from the cabinet—it takes me a second to find it—and put it on the stove. The sound of the gas igniting breaks the silence of the apartment.
While I'm waiting for the pan to heat up, I start slicing the bread.
There is something curious in all this, in moving through her kitchen. Opening drawers that I don't know.
Look for cutlery, plates. Try to guess where you keep things.
Before it wasn't like that, before I knew every co
