The click of the kettle.
The scrape of the chair along the floor.
The slosh of water, the clink of the spoon against the mug, the splash of the milk. The thud of the tea bag dumped in the bin.
Small sounds which echoed in the empty kitchen.
Four days since her visit to the hospital. Still no news.
Fiona resumed her position at the dining table.
The tinny tune pierced the silence.
Fingers fumbling, Fiona accepted the call.
“Hello? Yes, it’s me. That’s fantastic. Thank you.”
The scream to celebrate her getting the job.