When night fell

1 | cracking eggs

"I, sadly, suppose the apples are still hanging there." I glanced outside the window, to the trees where I'd just taken an apple from.

"When Beth was still here, those apples wouldn't have made it this long."

I was used to the way he talked, but sometimes, I still couldn't make out whether he was serious or not. "I don't mind picking them for you. An apple pie is something I might even be able to make out of it."

"Don't bother. I hope you enjoyed the apple." Matthew laid his cigar, which had burnt off, away, closing the paper. "Got plenty of hands helping me in a few weeks."

Right. Something a church from around the area had composed. A trip for children who needed a little more care than the average. So the parents had their hands empty for a few days.

Apparently, it was something Matthew and Beth used to do each year. But he hadn't, ever since she passed. His motives were unclear to me, but maybe he missed the company and was ready for it again.

"If you need me to-"

"They always have a few girls, boys helping them. I don't take care of them, besides the task to provide them food, warm water for baths and a place to sleep." Matthew stood up, taking his time to do so. It made me realise that he was older than he sometimes pretended to be.

What was it, with those old farmers, that they never seemed to actually get too old, and just went on with their tasks until their death? It was something I did admire.

"But if you would cook their meals in the evening.." Matthew opened the cabinets, poured the last few coffee beans into the machine, purposefully turning his back to me, as he whispered out. "I'd appreciate it."

It had been the unwritten rule ever since I got to live here. Beth used to cook his meals. The only thing Matthew knew in the kitchen was to cook up a nice breakfast. Other than that, he hadn't ever learnt how to cook. Subconsciously, I had taken over Beth's tasks in the kitchen. We had never questioned it.

"Of course, it would be my pleasure." I said, sincerely.

The bell, which stood in the corner of the kitchen counter, rang, telling us somebody was waiting at the little market stall we had standing at the end of our path, where we sold fresh eggs, raw milk and some fruits and vegetables. Amateurish. "I'll check on it."

Matthew glanced at me, gave a simple nod while he retrieved a new basket full of fresh eggs. The basket was small, but there were many eggs. I took it from him, carefully. Decided to leave my trekking pole behind, so I had my hands free.

The door closed with a creak and a thud, and after I had stepped into my brown, work chelsea boots, I made my way over, walking the quarter mile again.

From a distance, I couldn't make out who was standing there. But it was someone who felt bothered by the cold, judging the beanie and scarf I could make out from afar.

I continued to walk, avoided a few puddles, but when I had almost gotten there, my boot slipped in the mud and my right leg failed to keep me up. I fell on my side, the basket slipping out of my hands, causing the eggs to scatter and break all around me.

I muttered an Italian curse word, and wanted to grab the outstretched hand. But before I could, the hand was pulled back while a gasp was heard. "What did you say?"

"Forgive me, that wasn't very polite. It slipped out of my mouth before I-"

"I think I'm going to faint!" The woman hovered over me, and when I looked up, I recognized her instantly. To which I froze a little. My eyes flickered away, even though I craved for eye contact at the very same moment. She removed her beanie, I saw how her black curls were pulled back in a tight bun.