His bedroom was the hardest room to enter.

The quilt we’d repaired together was still folded at the foot of the bed.

A paperback mystery lay beside the lamp, its corner marked with a grocery receipt.

His slippers waited under the chair.

Chloe had chosen that room as though it were a hotel suite.

I stood in the doorway for a long time, then closed it gently.

I wasn’t ready to change anything.

The week after the funeral, Mrs.