I wake at 6.18. The net’s working. Forecast: partly cloudy skies, a low front shifting westward, slight chance of rain. High of sixteen, dropping to twelve at night. The ophthalmologist has sent me her analysis of the autopsy report: I make a mental note of the information it contains. I’d anticipated speaking to Stephanie before Freddy wakes, but she has already left. There is a brief note on the kitchen table next to the butterfly and the frog informing me that she will return Kaitlin’s car tonight, after which it is mine. She signs it with an S, and a PS wishing me ‘all the best’. People can be very unspecific, when they are distracted. I unfold the two origami figures, read the information about brain injury and mentally file it. It’s geared to the non-medical reader, and neutral in tone. But when I rise from the table I’m aware of an extra weight on my shoulders. It’s a very physical and concrete sensation, like the pull of a fifteen-kilogram rucksack. This gives me pause for thought.
