Elbowing open the back door, he shouted his daily love letter to his wife: “Cuppa tea?”

A brazen wind from the garden stole his words away. He glanced around to mime instead, but found no audience.

The kettle whistled urgently.

He turned back inside, shrugging. “She’ll be in soon enough.”

Lucy lives in England and tries to write and read as much as life allows. Sometimes she wishes the wind would blow her away, too.