air from the vent.
That evening, I ate crackers while standing over the kitchen sink.
I left the television off.
I ignored my mother’s third call.
On the way to bed, I passed the nursery without looking inside.
I lay down on Thomas’s side of the mattress.
No tears came, but neither did sleep.
The drive home from the cemetery had become a blur.
Most days since the funeral felt the same.
I took the longer road past the shopping center because remaining inside the house felt like slowly drowning.
