I rose slowly, and I kept my face down and my shoulders rounded, and I let my voice go small and broken, because a performance was required and I found I could give it easily, having lived inside it for years.

“I have to go downtown,” I said.

“To the specialty grocers.

For sixty distinct premium ingredients — you asked for a heritage feast, so it has to be the good store.

But my cards are all locked, Julian.

I need your credit card.