And then Ajay read her second email. About the tracker she was applying to Joanne’s car. Now Bridget’s internal demons were being let out into the real world.

BRIDGET

Shadows of the Real

Despite Joanne coming in to give Bob four more Tylenol around midnight, he had whimpered and writhed all night. Bridget had finally fallen into something like sleep, curled up on the floor wrapped in a blanket. They had let her keep her coat. Every time she turned onto her bruised shoulder, the pain roused her.

In the morning, she woke to a hushed silence. Oh, please God, no. Her eyes flew open. The room was filled with a pearlescent light.

Bridget jolted up, pinning her eyes to Bob’s gray face. Then he drew in a ragged breath and she could release her own. He was still alive, sleeping an uneasy sleep. Even though the room was so cold she could see her breath, Bob’s face was shiny with sweat.

As quietly as possible, she got to her feet. Outside, the snow was falling steadily. But the power hadn’t come back on. Looking out at the world blanketed in white, she hugged the blanket tighter around herself, and not just because she was freezing. When she was a kid, it had been a thrill to walk on fresh snow, to know she was the first to touch it. Now the endless expanse of unblemished snow was simply frightening, like being on a deserted island surrounded by miles of uncrossable ocean.

When Bridget turned away from the window, Bob’s eyes were open. He looked exhausted, with hollows in his cheeks and purple shadows under his red, rheumy eyes.

“How’re you doing?” she asked softly.

“Not so great.” He looked down, and she followed his gaze. The snow in the garbage bags had melted, so now the knotted bags slumped. The skin visible above the makeshift splint was red and swollen.

“I’m so sorry, Bob.” She blinked back tears. “I should have thought it through more.” Now he might die, and for what? Clearly, no one was coming to save them.

“It’s okay.” He squeezed his eyes closed and exhaled through clenched teeth.

“Should I take off your scarf? Is it making it hard for you to breathe?”

“No, it’s fine. It helps me.” He opened his eyes. “A girl gave it to me. Lilly.”

“You mentioned her once.” Exhaustion made her blunter than she might otherwise have been. “She left you.”

His fingers rose to gently touch it. “She didn’t leave me. Or at least not the way you think. She died. She had Hodgkin’s. Everyone said if you had to have cancer, that was one of the good ones. It still killed her. After she died, I put all my emotions on paper. They couldn’t hurt me there.” His swallow was loud in the quiet room. “I guess I’ll be seeing her soon.”