“Let her walk.”

She tied both laces herself and stood up straight.

I took the discharge papers and her bag.

The chair stayed empty by the wall.

We took the elevator down with Abigail’s hand on the rail.

The lobby doors opened on cold air and a sky so blue it looked scrubbed.

Elena Vance was parked at the curb in her clean Buick, the engine running.

She got out with her embroidered handkerchief in one hand and a thermos in the other.