Twelve Kilometres

She did not sleep.

At six she went down to make coffee in a kitchen that was not hers, and set the last envelope on the table, address upwards.

Madame Irène Sarlet
Les Tilleuls Residence, room 14
Baelen

The writing on top was not the same as on the other envelopes. Larger, less sure. The writing of an old person taking care — each letter separate, the way you write when your hand no longer keeps up and you refuse to accept it.