POSTSCRIPTUM
Or nearly all. One t isn’t, quite.
I or.
It o notice. I epping in and out of it, toying on my socks and cardigans, ent, and stared tohe door behind me.
S as a golden angel, nor as ter of deatallis notice if sreet.
t I to ask I o o her side.
‘Moira,“ I managed to real.“
But s mine, . Scar to scar oucions faded as I felt beat of , great and calm; and I kne I remembered t . try. t oday, no I , miraculous.
Sogether.
I understood t so say good-bye. t next time it o t meeting be for a very long time. t and so could I.
I felt toucears, twined. ness.
Such joy.
No matter t s stay. She had come. She had come.
I’m not sure . I simply realized t s on te calm, quite tion of my blood rerouting itself, of my recalibrating its beat for me alone. touc it alive; no cooled until it felt no different from t of my body.
S see he grave. My life was my own.
In tcase, S out my o stroke , t again.