didn’t care about the house.
“I know,” he said. “That’s why.”
I thought there would be time to ask what he meant.
There was not.
The day before he died, he asked for the blue blanket from home.
I brought it folded over my arm and found Marlene arranging flowers near the sink, throwing away lilies before they had opened.
For one second, she looked less cruel than simply exhausted.
Then she saw me, and the hardness returned.
Russell slept through most of that afternoon.
I sat beside him, counting
