He was not asking me to grieve prettily or to be brave.

He was simply telling me, one more time, in his steady voice, that he had me, that he had always had me, and that his being dead was not going to be permitted to change that.

And I believed him, because I had always believed him, and because he had never given me a single reason not to.”

I folded the letter along its creases and placed it carefully in my handbag.

I looked up at Mr.