I returned to Seattle a shell, functioning just enough to go to work, spending my days in bed, certain if I slept enough I would grow rested and strong again. Then I couldn't sleep at all. I loved French films with Isabelle Huppert, especially ones where she takes younger lovers. She had that look, a mixture of beauty and sadness, that I found irresistible. Her silent face would order the world, and soon enough it would be dawn.
Time passes and things accumulate.
Hair returns and falls away again. Each visit, someone different though familiar greets me. With our apples and honey in the trunk, we drove to visit my brother in the county jail. We sat in the waiting room and my name was called. He was in the last window at the end of a narrow room, with a mesh rectangle to talk through, like a confessional.