I couldn’t see her, though. The edge of the cupboard top was in the way. All I could see was the ceiling. It was sunlit and painted yellow. I wanted to know what she looked like. From the sound of her humming, she seemed to be near the washing machine or dryer. If she was facing either of those machines, she wouldn’t have a view of the cabinet. So I scooted forward and looked past its edge. She stood in front of the washer, at an angle that showed me her side and her back. Unless she had tremendous peripheral vision, I was out of sight. By the time I saw her, she’d already finished throwing in her laundry. She was busy sprinkling detergent powder into the hole at the top of the machine. She looked good. Slim and not too old. You can’t always tell with women, but I’d say she was under thirty by at least a couple of years. She had thick brown hair.
