I was alone in Max’s bed. Max, evidently, was downstairs cooking breakfast. I rolled to my back and stared at the point in the A-Frame ceiling. After sending my e-mail to Niles and crying my eyes out – so much, I had to move to the chair by the couch, curl in it holding a toss pillow to my chest in order to give myself a comfortable cocoon while letting go a part of my life that was once important to me, in fact I thought it was going to be my entire future but I’d figured out wasn’t so important anymore – I cleaned up my face. Then I threw another log on the fire. Then I stared at the log burning, trying to sort out my head. Then I failed at sorting out my head. Then when it got late, I made dinner for one and ate cookies for dessert. Then I read until it got later. Then when it got really late, I changed into my nightgown, put in a movie, slid into bed and, again, obviously, fell asleep while watching it. Now, clearly, it was morning and Max was home. And he said when he came home, we would finish.
