Nessa Daltrey hummed along to the tune whistling from the kettle as she stirred a pot of porridge on the stove. It was market day in Bourbaki, and the air already thrummed with a bustling energy. She glanced at the framed photograph on the windowsill: two young girls, one with bright red hair like Nessa's own and the other with dark curls, stood grinning mischievously beside their grandmother. A pang of longing shot through her. Bourbaki was a good place to raise a family, she thought. Safe, with strong community bonds. She often found herself reflecting on the words of her grandmother: 'A home is built not just with bricks and mortar, but with kindness and shared laughter.' Those words had guided her through difficult times, especially after... Nessa paused, her gaze drifting to the empty chair at the table. The porridge bubbled over, and she quickly turned it down. Some memories were best left undisturbed for now. There was work to be done. She needed to gather herbs from her garden for Mrs. Bellingham's cough remedy and check on old Mr. Finch, who lived alone a few streets away. He always appreciated her fresh bread. As the sun streamed through the kitchen window, Nessa felt a sense of purpose settle over her. Life in Bourbaki was simple, yet fulfilling. It wasn't without its sorrows, but there was also an abundance of love and connection that made it all worthwhile.