And so the time passed, and the curved glass walls of the snow globe hardened. Less and less often she thought of Tully, and when she did, she learned to stop crying about it and go on.

But it exhausted her, drained her. As the weather had begun to turn cold again, it took all her effort to get up in the morning and take a shower. By November, washing her hair had been such a daunting prospect that she’d avoided it altogether. Cooking dinner and doing the dishes sapped so much energy that halfway through she had to sit down.

That all would have been okay, and by that she meant acceptable levels of depression, if only it had ended there. Last week, unfortunately, she’d been too tired to brush her teeth in the morning, and she’d driven the kids to school in her pajamas.

“I don’t know why that’s such a big deal,” she’d said to her husband that night when he asked her about it. He’d taken a job at his old station, and the lessened responsibilities gave him too much time to notice Kate’s flaws. “It’s just a slip in personal hygiene. It’s not like I went postal.”

“You’re depressed,” he’d said, pulling her against him on the sofa. “And frankly, Kate, you don’t look good.”

That had hurt, although, to be honest, not as much as it should have. “So make me an appointment with a plastic surgeon. I hardly need a physical exam. I see my doctors regularly. You know that.”

“Better safe than sorry,” was his answer, and so now, here she was on the ferry, going in to the city. The truth was—although she wouldn’t have admitted it to her husband—she was glad to be going in. She was tired of being depressed, tired of feeling worn out. Maybe a prescription of some kind would help; a pill to forget a thirty-year friendship that had ended badly.

When the ferry docked, she drove off the bumpy ramp and merged into the early morning traffic. It was a gray dismal day that matched her mood. She drove through downtown and negotiated the hill up to the hospital, where she found a parking spot in the garage, then walked across the street and into the lobby. After a quick check-in, she headed for the elevator.

Forty minutes later, after she’d read every article in the newest edition of Parents magazine, she was led back to an examination room, where a nurse took all the usual stats and information.

When she was left alone again, Kate picked up the new People and flipped it open.