As she scrolled her phone’s contacts, Sarah worried about waking her, even though she’d been assured many times that this was a good time to call.

“Hi,” Kiki answered on the second ring.

“Good morning.”

“You okay?”

Sarah looked around. Pearly sky, dull security grilles. “I am.” She breathed in and smelled yeast from a bakery up the block. “What are you working on?”

“It’s my fifth day on this new line. I’m using India ink. Lots of circles. I’ve been getting up every morning at four thirty.”

“You’re cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.”

“I know.”

Sarah stood up straighter and looked across the street. A cheery neon sandwich blinked from a bodega window. “Is Sylvie still asleep?”

“She is,” Kiki whispered.

Sarah smiled easily and felt a loosening in her chest. “Whatever you’re doing is definitely working.”

“You think? I don’t know. It’s working this week.”

“What did you eat for breakfast?”

“Oh, it was so good.” Kiki laughed. “You know that’s what motivates me to get out of bed.”

“I do.”

“So I put leftover rice in a bowl with some spinach. I heated that, topped it with a fried egg and chopped avocado, sesame oil and soy sauce.”

“Yum.”

“Oh, and hot sauce.”

“Tell me about the India ink.”

“Oh, and toasted sesame seeds.”

“Tell me about the circles.”

MATTHEW WOULDN’T FALL back to sleep because once he was up, he was up. He’d make his way through the apartment and, when he failed to find Sarah, would find a scribbled note. He always would. She would never make him wonder. Then he’d suit up for his run, his sneakers hitting the pavement as she made her way home. Out and back, in and out, both of them moving through their life.

The anguish of death is different from the awareness of self-destruction.

You saw her alive on a beautiful beach just over a year ago.

There’s hope is what he said.

There’s time.

THEN THEY WENT for weeks without mentioning her.

Sarah bought Matthew an extravagant watch, not unlike the one that Arman had worn in the water. Matthew surprised Sarah with tickets to a show he knew she wanted to see. When the lights went down in the opulent theater, her pulse raced as if she were due onstage.

Dear Caroline, No, I haven’t. I haven’t been thinking it over. I’m not there. At least I’m not there yet.