But I looked, and the woman in the glass was not tired.

That is the whole of it.

I was not triumphant and I was not glowing and I had not become anybody’s inspiration.

I was a forty-two-year-old woman in a decent coat who had slept properly and was ten minutes early, and who was not, at that moment or at any moment in the preceding week, monitoring anybody.

Not a phone.

Not a mileage log.