Chapter 2Before the Light Fades

For some reason, I had become a spectral form, able to drift anywhere. It was strange; just this morning, I'd felt well enough to speak with Julian for a bit.

He had a conference in London to present his latest findings, and his flight was at noon. I woke at seven to make him breakfast.

Julian, for all his austerity, was a picky eater. The toast had to be burned just so, the milk heated to precisely eighty percent. As our son, Leo, would say, "Mom, you've completely spoiled Dad's palate."

I never argued. After two or three decades of meticulous care, even the most troublesome tasks had become second nature.