The last time I saw you was October 2019, she said looking through my file. Yes, it has been a while. It was good to see her. She looked well, prettier and lighter in countenance than when I last saw her. And yet she has so much family stuff to carry. The little shed she takes me to at the end of her garden is always warm. I lie there on the couch and look at the wooden ceiling and it reminds me of a sauna. I yield to her and drift. Yesterday it was if my body had become architecture and I was a series of arched clear-paned windows.
You look tanned, he said when I came out. Do I? I said looking at my face in the car mirror. And he was right, the colour had returned.
