I stared at it.
“Is this a disguise?”
“No. Advertising.”
Rachel took it from him.
“She’ll wear it.”
“I will not.”
Rachel placed it on top of my head.
Ellie laughed.
The sound was quiet, but it was hers.
I left before I could mistake it for permission to stay.
The cottage looked different when we returned.
Not because anything had changed.
Because Ellie was no longer inside it.
The remains of breakfast covered the kitchen counter.
Two coffee cups.
A bowl with three strawberries.
The disconnected telephone receiver beside the wooden sailboat.
Rachel walked through the rooms collecting chargers and checking drawers while I stood in the bedroom doorway.
One side of the bed was unmade.
The expensive T-shirt Ellie had worn was gone.
She still had it.
I let that mean more than it probably did.
Rachel found the fork beneath the edge of the bed.
She held it up.
“No.”
“It was pie.”
“That explanation has not improved with time.”
She carried it into the kitchen.
I folded the white sundress from our first date.
Then unfolded it because I had done it badly.
