I rose too.
“Evelyn.”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
Something flickered across her face then.
Something tender and sad and grateful all at once.
“So am I,” she said.
She touched my arm once more and walked out.
I stood in that lobby long after the doors closed behind her.
Then I looked down at the cardboard box in my hands and almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
One day earlier I had left this place feeling like my life had collapsed.
Now I was carrying an empty box upstairs while a tiny, wild ember of hope sparked where the wreckage had been.
My desk looked sadder than I expected.
Maybe because I had expected it to feel like mine forever.
There were framed photos of Emily and the girls.
A coffee mug Claire painted for me with one handle thicker than the other because kids are honest with clay.
