“She says she is just trying a new diet for the Founders Day dinner,” Marcus said, clearing his throat.
“She is fading, Marcus,” Clara said, her voice dropping. “I see her at the mill during the shift, and she looks like a ghost.”
Marcus did not answer, his fingers tracing the edge of his wedding ring.
When he returned home, the house was quiet, and the only sound was the running water in the kitchen sink. Zhou stood at the basin, her back to him, washing the dinner bowls in the warm soapy water.
Marcus walked up behind her and reached out to take a wet plate from her hand to dry it.
As her wet fingers slipped through his, he saw her silver wedding ring slide completely off her knuckle, splashing into the soapy dishwater below.
Marcus plunged his hand into the warm, grey suds to retrieve the band before it cleared the drain.
He dried the small gold band on his apron and held it out to her, but she only offered a tired smile and tucked it into her apron pocket.
