“Go,” she said.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The condo patio faced west, so the afternoon sun came in low and warm.

I had a glass of iced tea and a book I hadn’t opened.

Margaret was asleep in the bedroom behind me, the door cracked an inch, and I could hear her breathing, steady as a clock.

I set the pineapple magnet on the metal side table.

The paint was chipped on one corner where the fridge door had slammed into the counter years ago.