“That’s right. Chatting can be therapeutic,” says Shelley. “Tell us: Have you always lived in the city, Penny?”

“My whole life, yes.”

Until today, I think. Until right now.

“It’s exciting to think that all this will be a new experience for you.”

“An adventure!” says Ruth.

The word fills me with anxiety. I don’t want to be on an adventure. Not at all. I want to be home. I want to be having a nap. These people all know each other, are all used to living side by side, but they don’t know me. I don’t know them.

They’re all strangers.

I look back to the door and see the cat walk by. Its coloring is the same as Gorky’s, the cat I had long ago, a fluffy piece of butterscotch candy with a tail.

“Not just living outside of the hustle and bustle,” says Shelley, “but that we’re here to look after you, take care of you. That will be new for you, too, I think. To be spoiled and pampered. You’re going to fit right in.”

Ruth is about to speak, but then she covers her mouth. It’s as though she realizes she’s not supposed to say what she was about to.

“And since all our rooms are now filled, and we’re operating at capacity, I want to tell you all that we’ve been planning to throw a little party.”

All the rooms are filled? There are only four of us. Six if counting Shelley and Jack. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a long-term-care facility with only four residents. Were they holding my room for me?

“There are only six of us in the whole residence?” I blurt out.

All eyes on me again. I shouldn’t have said anything.

“We are, each of us, one-sixth. A fraction of the whole,” says Hilbert. “0.16666666…”

“I’m only one,” I say.

“I like a modest scale. My vision has always been to keep this place small, intimate, where we all really get to know one another,” says Shelley. “The big care facilities are too impersonal and feel like run-down hospitals. They smell bad. We were delighted to wait for you, Penny. A place this size is much easier to maintain in the way I deem important, in a human way. No one can fall through the cracks. We’re a community.”

“So… a… party, you say?” asks Hilbert skeptically.

“Sounds fun!” says Ruth, applauding. “En français: une fête!”

“Yes, something to look forward to,” says Shelley.

“Très bien.”

Hilbert makes eye contact, leans toward me. “Do you enjoy parties?”

“I used to,” I say. “But it’s been a while since I’ve been to one. A long while.”

Jack appears at the door, poking his head around the corner.

“Dinner’s ready,” he says.

“Sounds good,” says Shelley. “Okay, everyone. Time to eat.”

We file out, one at a time, back into the narrow hall, to the dining room, which isn’t as big as the common room. It’s all happening too fast. I was just starting to settle in the chair, to feel slightly at ease, and now I’m walking again, moving.