Maya helped choose the colors for the art room.

She suggested yellow for the bicycle shed and a mural featuring a fox wearing glasses.

When the committee asked whether she wanted to make a speech at the opening, she said she would rather ride her bike.

Nobody argued.

Clara attended the ceremony quietly.

Over the months she had answered questions, handed over records, and endured long stretches when I could not bear to talk to her.

I had not forgiven every lost year.