After they finished their meal, Anne insisted on making tea and brought out an assortment of jams. “Homemade,” she said proudly, as she spread a generous dollop on a slice of bread. “Try the strawberry; it’s my favorite.”
Emily bit into the bread, the sweet jam bursting on her tongue. She couldn’t remember the last time something had tasted so good.
“Now,” Anne said, clapping her hands together, “let’s get that window sparkling. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
Together, they tackled the window cleaning, chatting and laughing as they worked. Emily felt an unfamiliar lightness in her heart, buoyed by the unexpected friendship that had blossomed in Anne’s kitchen. As she wiped the glass, she caught a glimpse of her reflection – tired, yes, but with eyes brightened by hope.
Perhaps this was what she had been searching for all along.