It appeared that Mrs Mayor was not a cook at heart. Then again, there was not much to eat in the scenario, so Thanh Van couldn't blame her either.
An empty pot hung from a hook over fresh wood. Utensils were washed and set on the kitchen table. Thanh Van stopped before the table, gaze washing over the circular kitchen void of any life. Over the table, a couple wheels of rye bread were looped through a wooden plank, suspended from the ceiling to air dry. Along the upper corner of the opposite wall, a small window was left ajar for the air to filter through.
The mayor and his wife must have recently settled in this house to welcome their child before the little boy suddenly died. There was no personality of Mrs. Mayor left behind in the kitchen, the area lifeless and uninviting. Thanh Van had an inkling she never stepped in here, to begin with.
The shelves overflowed with dust. The pantry was left ajar, with jars of flour and spices knocked to the floor.
