There’s always another strand you convince yourself to cling to, however frayed. And it just keeps unraveling, miles of it, year after year…down, down, down.”Outside, the sun had shifted in the sky, and a bright beam came through the window. The unfiltered light fell on Stephanie’s face and turned it to a mask, taut, Kabuki white, and brittle. Only her will, and maybe the Ativan, kept it from crumbling. She looked at me.“I’m used to the erosion, John, but this is…too fast. We’re not ready for it, David and I— we’re not ready.”31I was on hold for Mike Metz when Clare came through the door. She had a cell phone in her ear and newspapers under her arm.“Yeah, Amy, Berkeley’s heaven on earth, you’ve been saying it for years. But it’s so crunchy granola, and besides, what would—” Amy, whoever Amy was, was saying something, and Clare put down her papers and slipped off her coat while she listened. She smiled at me and ran a hand through her hair, which rippled like a silk sheet.
