I slept at Danielle's.

Not deeply. The body did the minimum - shower, a plate of whatever she left in the kitchen, a bed that did not smell like Sam's house. In the morning I went out and bought a dress with my own money. No borrowed hanger, no charity softness. Standing in the shop mirror, fastening the back, I felt the small hard relief of putting something on that no one had chosen for me.

Susan called while I was still in the car toward the hospital.

"I just wanted to know how you are," she said, careful, almost light.

"I'm fine."

"Kat-"

"I have to go."

I hung...