She was carrying a coffee and laughing at something on her phone.
She looked happy.
She looked like herself.*
*I didn’t go in.
I wasn’t ready.
Or maybe she wasn’t.
Or maybe I just wanted one more day of it being possible before it became real.*
*Next week I start volunteering at St.
Catherine’s Hospice.
I put in the application this morning.
I don’t know if she’ll ever come in.
But if she does, I want to be there.*
I closed the notebook.
She had chosen the hospice because of me.
She had placed herself in my path and waited, with a patience I could not fully comprehend, for the universe to close the distance she was afraid to close herself.
I put the notebook in my bag.
I put the photograph beside it.
I drove to Hale’s office and placed both on his desk.
“Add these to the file,” I said.
