POSTSCRIPTUM

    Or nearly all. One t isn’t, quite.

    I or.

    It o notice. I epping in and out of it, toying  on my socks and cardigans, ent, and stared tohe door behind me.

    S as a golden angel, nor as ter of deatallis notice if sreet.

    t I  to ask  I o o her side.

    ‘Moira,“ I managed to  real.“

    But s mine,  . Scar to scar oucions faded as I felt  beat   of , great and calm; and I kne I remembered t . try. t oday, no I , miraculous.

    Sogether.

    I understood t so say good-bye. t next time  it o  t meeting  be for a very long time. t and so could I.

    I felt toucears, twined. ness.

    Such joy.

    No matter t s stay. She had come. She had come.

    I’m not sure . I simply realized t s on te calm, quite  tion of my blood rerouting itself, of my  recalibrating its beat for me alone. touc it alive; no cooled until it felt no different from t of my body.

    S see he grave. My life was my own.

    In tcase, S out my o stroke , t again.