The green leaves on the potted plants lining the way
The trap-door mirror repeating the last rites
The washable satin dressing gown under her blouse
The restored ornaments to be used again next time

She lies down by her bedside table, taking a bath every morning before starting a bottle of milk
She opens her door slowly so as not to block off the hallway with her curtains
She stands in front of the flat, takes a seat at the counter, and waits for you to come in
She opens the window, and sends the letter out into the world