We wrote it down.

On Wednesday Jenna met Clara at a café and came home with a pastry she said I wasn’t allowed to touch until dinner.

On Sunday I walked alone beside the river while Jenna painted watercolors at the dining table.

When Ruth called that night, Jenna told her about both outings.

“You sound different,” Ruth said.

“Different good?”

“Different like you have a little room to breathe.”

Jenna looked toward Wesley playing on the rug and said, “I think we do.”