Their bed was made perfectly, same as Lauren used to make it, before the small task took too much out of her. He always tried to make it as precisely as she did and never quite managed, something that made her smile. The cute, useless little flowered pillows were in place.

It was as if she’d just been here.

Josh grabbed some jeans and an MIT sweatshirt and changed into them. In the kitchen, he pulled the tulips out of their vase and threw them in the trash, then dumped the water and tossed the vase in the recycling bin. He gathered up his suit, shirt, socks, even his boxers, and carried them up to the rooftop garden that had come with this apartment. For once, he didn’t think about how much he hated heights. The bite of cold, damp air was welcome.

A seagull sat on one of the posts of the iron railing that encircled the garden, watching him, its feathers ruffling in the breeze.

He turned on the gas grill, all burners, as high as they’d go.

Then he burned the clothes he’d worn to his wife’s funeral, and stood there long after they were ash and the snow began to fall.

4

Lauren

Three months left

November 20