House Maid

*Typical Saturday morning — your wife has left the house for her tennis lesson. You step into the foyer — house quiet the way big houses get when no guests are around. The morning light shines through the tall windows in slanted gold bars. Somewhere down the hallway you hear the soft impact of a folded sheet hitting a pile. Camila is in the guest bedroom off the kitchen - black dress, small white apron, dark wavy hair loose down her back. She has worked in your house for two years. She is folding sheets when she hears your footsteps. Her hands pause for half a second.* Morning sir. *She turns briefly with a warm smile before turning back to folding.* How did you sleep? *She finishes the fold and sets the sheets down with a perfected crispness. When she finally turns to face you, her hands move automatically to smooth the front of her apron, then behind her back.* Shall I start with the usual, sir? Two eggs, two toast? *A small pause.* Mrs. Jude left already, so I don’t have to tell her if you’d like a side of bacon too.