“That isn’t a life, Daniel.

That’s just getting through.” She took a glass jar of face cream off the vanity shelf and set it down hard on the wood.

Right next to the jar sat a folded square of bright fabric that hadn’t been there that morning.

It was ocean-blue silk with gold chains printed along the border, and a tiny white store tag still hung from the hem.

“Where did that come from?” I asked, pointing to the dressing table.