It was the last visible instance of the thing she had done, unseen, for thirty years.

I only saw it because, this time, she could not be there to clear the pain in person, and so she had to leave the clearing in writing, where I would find it.

And finding it, I finally saw all the other times, stretching back through my whole life, when she had done the same thing, and I had never known to look.

Chapter 13 — Palliative