I noticed things I hadn't seen in days: the way the light caught in the dew on a spiderweb, the simple, uncomplicated smile of a stranger. I was a prisoner on a day release, viewing every second.
The supermarket was my sanctuary. The fluorescent lights were uninteresting. I lost myself in the simple choices. Did I want the Greek yogurt or the natural one? The sourdough or the rustic boule? For a glorious twenty minutes, I was just Millicent, a woman buying groceries, her heart not a shattered piece of crystal in her chest.
I was in the cereal aisle, comparing oatmeal brands, my cart half-full with my modest victories, when the air changed. It wasn't a temperature drop, but a shift in pressure, a silent, predatory reordering of the atmosphere. The cheerful pop music from the speakers seem
