She arrived home on Thursday. When she reentered the penthouse, it seemed a little different, not exactly changed, but altered in the way spaces change when you've been somewhere awful and you come back. The dimensions were the same. The lighting was the same. However, she didn't glide through it smoothly, as one usually does, but rather cautiously, like a person who is navigating a room in the dark: not frightened of the room, only aware of the fact that such a room can have edges and that these edges must be carefully located. Adrian went to the hospital daily. He stayed with her, as people do with a grief that they do not have words for. He was simply there, not playing a part, not acting. He never attempted to talk her out of it or around it. He came with food that she did not eat and
