“Are you feeling any better today?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

“A bit lightheaded,” I said, pulling open the top desk drawer.

My fingers brushed against my old black flip phone, tucked under a box of brass paperclips where I had put it three years ago when Daniel bought me a new smartphone.

I left the old phone where it was and kept searching through the stationery.

“You need your rest, Margaret.

You’ve been so forgetful lately,” he said, stepping toward the doorway.