It was early evening when I woke up. I lay still for a moment, remembering the scenes at the hall. There was a heaviness, a sadness inside me. I couldn’t have said exactly why, but tears blurred my eyes. The van was cold, the air conditioning too high. Matey was on the bed with me, and as I stirred, he muzzled at my face, l*****g the tears away. I held his small, wiry body close, breathing in his earthy dog smell. Something was coming to an end.
There were voices—Simon’s, Julie’s, and Bishop Peter’s. They were waiting for the sunset, whose gold rays were beginning to show through the windows of the van. I rose, turned off the air conditioner, and, barefoot, with Matey following, went outside.
They stood, concerned, as if I was an invalid.
Bishop Peter hugged me.
‘Alice, are you alright
