Seven Years After My Daughter’s Funeral, I Followed Her Husband to a Rehabilitation Center—And Saw a Woman I Thought Was Dead

Then placed it beside the blue notebook.

For a long time, I simply sat there.

I wanted to tell Dorothy.

Instead, I opened the notebook.

Beneath a grocery list, she’d written another question.

Did the patient remember a bakery?

I stared.

She had been following fragments.