“I’ve lost track of the week.”

She looked at me with her fingers still on the pearls and asked whether I was sleeping.

She left at four with the extra blanket folded under her arm and promised to come early on Friday.

The door clicked shut.

At midnight on Tuesday I had been awake with Maya against my shoulder, watching the garage light stay dark.

Julian came in at seven thirty while I was draining the pasta, and put his bag down on the counter where I had already moved it once.

“You didn’t have to cook,” he said.