At nine ten, the night nurse let me back into 412 for ten minutes.

I took Abigail’s cold right hand and held it and waited.

Nothing came back.

Not a flicker, not a curl of the fingers.

Her backpack was still in the closet, where somebody had kicked it out of the way.

I brought it to the chair and unzipped it on my knees.

Someone had packed it properly.

Two shirts folded the way I fold them.