“I don’t know how I look. There aren’t any mirrors here. I must look different, though, because I feel so different. Can’t you see that? I am someone else, it’s not just the way I look.”

“But your hair. It’s all gone, and it was so beautiful.” Wistful, remembering the old Abra. “What happened?”

I tried to remember a sequence so that I could tell him something he might understand, that would not go too far, that would protect both of us as we were now. I sighed; it was an effort.

“I loved all of you. I worried. I wanted to protect you all from everything. I was so tired. I used to read the papers every day, cover to cover, and I waited for all of you to come home. One day I saw an advertisement in the paper. The next day it was there again. It meant something to me, I didn’t know what, then. It was an impulse. I called the number in the advertisement, and then a man brought me up here and showed me this place. I can’t explain what happened, except that I knew I had to be here. I went back to the city and got the money Grandmother left, and bought it. I didn’t want to talk about it then. I just came here, and everything has changed. I know you want to know what happened, but I can’t tell you. I don’t have any idea. I remember being with you, but it’s as if that was a different person. I don’t want to hurt you. The other Abra didn’t want to hurt you then, but something happened.” I shrugged.

“I don’t know what it was. That person died. I can’t explain it any more, but she’s gone as surely as if you’d buried her.”

The fantasy he’d come with, whatever it had been, was gone. He looked horrified and frightened, and for a few moments there were signs of struggle on his face. Then he became quiet again, gentle.