Games of Solitaire

On evenings lit by kerosene lamps in large and echoing country houses, the old aunts of those who had them passed the time by playing solitaire while the maid dozed off to the simmering sound of the tea kettle […]. Someone in me who has taken my place feels nostalgia for this useless peace. The tea arrives and the old deck of cards is placed in a neat stack on a corner of the table. The shadow of the enormous china cabinet makes the dusky dining room still darker. The maid’s face sweats with sleepiness as she slowly hurries to finish. I see all of this, inside myself, with an anguish and nostalgia that aren’t related to anything. And I find myself considering the state of mind of someone playing solitaire.