Once thoroughly clean, Patience kneaded dumplings at the kitchen table in preparation for dinner. She enjoyed patting the dough with flour and feeling it between her fingers. As a child, her mother would give her a small ball of dough to play with as she cooked. She remembered her warm face peering down at her, browned and wrinkled from long days in the sun. Then a flick of her thumb to clean off spots of flour clinging to Patience’s button nose. Another cherished memory tucked back into the library of the girl’s mind.

Completed, the dumplings rested in a pan on the table. The soft sound of water cleaning doughy hands filled the kitchen. Despite having her life to herself again, Patience could not help but think of the skull. Certainly the past few days with the creature were challenging. She had found her heart racing more times in Anax’s company than she ever remembered during any other period in her life.The time with him was unpredictable. But it was indeed an adventure.

Settling in the parlor, she studied the bookshelf behind the armchair. For years, her ticket to adventure was found in the leaves of these dusty tomes. Most of these titles were her father’s history texts. He kept his scientific collection in his atelier. The parlor was for leisure, and history was his hobby. A few books on the shelf were Patience’s proud possessions, adventure novels. 

She loved diving into them to experience the thrill of a new expedition, even though she had read through these campaigns numerous times over. But today the siren’s song of fantastic journeys across oceans and through time was silent. The most fantastic thing of all was sitting in her bedroom chair. She did not have to interpret printed words on a page to hallucinate it in her mind. It was real.

The skull was unquestionably fascinating, but all amounts of novelty aside, she felt a small tug of sympathy for it. This was a creature far flung from his home with nothing familiar to comfort him. Patience could only imagine how she would handle herself in the same situation. Her mind kept meandering to Anax. Not knowing why she hurried, the girl ran to her room, confirming he still rested on her chair.

“I’m a fool,” she said, turning back towards the front of the house. She then busied herself with cleaning before deeming it an appropriate time to start dinner.

Patience sat by the stove watching the dumplings turn and spin in the bubbling soup. This was her life. Her eyes wandered yet again to the hallway leading to her room. Clearing her throat to catch her own attention, she glanced over at the crusty remains of the last loaf from the bakery on the counter. Her father loved dipping stale bread into soup. She pictured his mustache bouncing up and down as he chewed on the bread, little beads of soup collecting in his whiskers. All of a sudden Patience felt very alone. She gazed at the table meant to seat four. A sole lamp hung over the wooden surface, casting a spotlight on her desolation.

As the sun made its exit, the soup was ready to serve. Patience ladeled a generous helping into a bowl and set it on the table with a clunk. Her spoon tinkled against the glazed rim. Every klink, slurp, and splash seemed to echo in the empty kitchen. The soup and dumplings were satisfying, particularly on a chilly night, but it was missing the spice of company.

More images of family dinners together flipped through her head. Occasionally her parent’s various friends and acquaintances joined them, but mostly it was just the family of three. Although not every meal was consumed in lively conversation, a quiet joy was always present in her mother and father’s eyes. Patience felt her heart ache. She slumped over her meal, limply dipping a crust of bread into the broth, chewing mindlessly on a piece of carrot. The single light above her burned steadily, seemingly extending a warm pitiful pat on her head. At twenty-five, this was her life.

The empty bowl and spoon clacked hollow against the sink. Pivoting around, Patience braced her back to the basin, eyes falling over the kitchen. She exhaled sharply. Trembling fingers reached her temple, tracing little circles. She tugged at her braid and smoothed her pants. Nostrils flaring, the girl marched to her room.