Lacy puffed up the pillows on her cream-colored sectional one more time, and then considered where else in her apartment that may need sprucing. The living room carpet was freshly vacuumed with angled lines.
The large-faced clock atop the fireplace mantel was dusted. The wine rack was full of the dark reds she loved. The three small wicks on her honey tea-scented candle were flickering, and the place smelled sweet. Like home.
She had to tell herself the apartment looked decent. Deep down though, she wasn’t convinced. During a year of solitude and Zoom-life, her place had become less than tidy, to say the least. She had ignored vacuuming.
Tissues and coffee mugs and water bottles and shoes and boxes and candy wrappers had gathered on her coffee table and lamp stands and the floor around
