A receptionist I didn’t know was sorting delivery slips behind the desk.

I remembered waiting there during our marriage, bringing Gregory a document he had forgotten.

He had kissed my cheek that day and told a colleague I always rescued him.

For years, that memory had belonged to the pleasant part of our life.

Standing there with the envelope in my bag, I wondered how often being useful had been confused with being cared for.

Karen held out a banana and a wrapped sandwich.