I could recall the smell of coffee from the corner café and the squeak of the main entrance doors.

But I didn’t remember a Harbor Vale sign.

Evelyn arranged a meeting with the facility’s records officer to review who had handled my discharge paperwork.

Before she could finish, I remembered something else: a woman had visited me during rehabilitation.

I had known her by her voice.

She brought violet-scented hand cream and called me “darling” even though we had never met.

I had assumed she was a volunteer.