“Are they mine, Rosalind?”

She held my eyes, and she nodded, once, and did not look away.

Chapter 6 — The Rubber-Banded Stack

Rosalind reached into her scuffed tote bag and pulled out a thick stack of papers bound with a heavy rubber band, and she began, with hands that were not quite steady, to show me the shape of the last six years.

There were letters — my letters, the ones I had written her and believed unread, stamped return to sender in red.

There were printouts of emails she had sent to an old account of mine, emails I had never seen.