Nella Voss's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Nella woke to rain on the east window and the smell of bread from downstairs. She lay still and counted the sounds: the kettle starting to hiss, a spoon against a cup, the front bell as the owner stepped out with her dog. Nella dressed, took her notebook, and went down. The seventh stair creaked. The fourth one groaned louder. She wrote that down before she reached the counter. A loaf sat wrapped in cloth beside a note that said open at eight, cups go on the low shelf, sweep before the bell rings twice. She read it twice, tied on the apron hanging by the door, and turned the sign in the window. The morning came in pieces. A man bought honey and told her about the rain. A girl in a wet coat asked for two rolls and counted coins on the counter. Nella found the cups stacked wrong on the high shelf and moved them to the low one, where the note said they belonged. The shelf under them smelled faintly of cinnamon. She kept the kettle warm. She swept twice. Rain softened the light in the front window until the whole shop looked like the inside of a lamp. By late afternoon she knew which floorboard by the door announced a customer before the bell did. When the owner came back, shaking water from her coat, she looked at the swept floor and the cups in their new place and said only, good. Nella climbed the stairs at dusk and sat on the bed with her notebook. She wrote: kettle, broom, bell, bread, quiet. Then, under that: some mornings become home before you notice. She closed the book and listened to the rain, and knew she would open the shop again tomorrow without being asked.