a shortening life

When her husband –who despite his serious illness had lived longer than many healthy men– finally died, the old woman accepted her daughter’s invitation, gave away all her chickens, packed up the Holy Scripture, the seven-armed candelabra, and her two sets of plates, and went to live with her. She left behind the semidarkness in which she’d been spending her life, along with a few pieces of furniture, their feet all scraped and scratched –her husband had taken a saw to them whenever they began to rot, shortening them by a centimeter or two– and left behind the dirt floor that was just the same as outside…

 

The End of Days, Jenny Erpenbeck