She told me, which she did not have to. She said she was writing about the Tuesday — all of it, from the stairwell, the whole afternoon and the whole evening — and she said it in a slightly defensive way, as though she expected me to have a view.

“Is it for school?”

“No.”

“For the therapist?”

“No.” She was at the kitchen table with a laptop. “It’s not for anyone. That’s kind of the point.”

“Can I ask why?”