That is what I was carrying into the elevator on the fiftieth floor.

Not a general anxiety about being poor.

A specific date, six weeks out, and a specific number.

I have been asked, more than once, and usually by people who mean it kindly, whether I would have taken that job if Junie had been healthy.

The answer is no, and I want to be careful about what I mean by it.

I do not mean that I was forced.