⁴⁰ We talk on my birthday
Summer offered respite.
As if the lethargic heat for once not only slowed down woman and man, but also the inexorable — sunken cheeks, forgetting, what moved with more pain between the widening walls.
I was told of the bettering — been better than it’s been.
At one point, it was dinner. Fruity soup shared, huddled in the dining room/full of books. Her deceased husband was mentioned, and Grandmother had cried.
Oh
This hasn’t happened for years
