Even tonight, when she’s folding the last of her washing while half-heartedly watching a re-run marathon of the Little Women program her mother loved, all the lights are off in the flat, save for a small lamp sitting on her writing table pressed up against the large window behind her. She leaves it on at all times, another habit she picked up from her mother, who kept a small lamp on in the kitchen at all times so it was easier to make tea in the middle of the night.