The next morning came soft and golden.
The old wooden house was wrapped in a quiet, peaceful hush. Sunlight poured through the small windows of the kitchen, catching on the wooden beams overhead and turning the faint dust motes into sparkling dust. The smell of miso soup, grilled mackerel, and fresh rice filled the air, mixed with the faint, sweet scent of the pickled vegetables in the small dishes. The clock in the hallway chimed softly at seven o'clock, its deep wooden tone echoing through the empty rooms like a gentle greeting.
