But if they skipped the foundation, everything above it would crack again.

That was how I decided to handle my life: one documented fact at a time.

PART 8

Sandra appeared at Marisol’s door on the fourth day after I left.

I saw her through the narrow front window, standing beneath a striped umbrella with a paper bag from an expensive bakery.

Her hair was perfectly arranged.

Her coat probably cost more than Marisol’s monthly rent.

“I’m not opening it,” Marisol said.