It is the sixth day.
I have one day left. I don't know how I know this—there is no ticking clock, no voice from the void—but I feel it in the marrow of my rapidly dissolving bones. My body is almost entirely transparent from the waist down now. I am anchored to this world by the thinnest, most fragile of threads.
But today is different. Today, there is no panic. There is no frantic searching for clues, no horrifying revelations. Today is bathed in a golden, heartbreaking peace.
It's evening. The warm yellow light from the kitchen pendant lamps casts a soft glow over the island.
Ronan is cooking.
I sit on one of the high stools at the counter, watching him. He is making pasta. I watch the precise, rhythmic motion of his knife as he chops garlic and tomatoes. I watch the way he tosses t
