Most of his memories of you are just a boy at a door, waiting.” He stood there, stunned and silent.

“I finally understand what I destroyed,” he whispered.

“I’m glad you do,” I said, without unkindness.

“But understanding it too late doesn’t obligate the people you hurt to come back.” And I walked out into the afternoon sun with steady hands.

In our condo I set up my office by the bay window and filled the balcony with herbs, and I took on new clients, and I learned to enjoy a quiet evening without once checking the clock.

One Sunday Ethan came in from the library, dropped his bag, and breathed out.