The Table

Outside, during the pandemic, the time seemed to come to a standstill. But a family dining table continued to dictate its own rhythms: it observed spring passing into summer, counted the number of flowers that would wither until winter, saw fragments of a family deposed on its surface, eavesdropping on the family conversations. The table changed its skin with the light that turned into nights, its tablecloth being soiled and cleaned, over and over again. It witnessed a pulse. And life - so much life.