I am sitting in that exhausted space between mania and emptiness when she opens the door and comes into my room. She has that way of patting the side of her head where her glasses should be, because her hair is thick enough to hold them and she is not sure that they are there. She has the same look that she always had, the look of measurement and perplexity, as if she cannot decide where to begin with me, and yet she knows that she will.