Grief is not something you can look in the face for more than forty-eight hours. Or I can’t. I got out of the house today – I studied, I got my new ID card, I started exploring the luminous resources of the Hopkins library. I filled out the paperwork for my new apartment on St. Paul.
But now here I am, at home again. I took out the trash in the rain, and I came upstairs to the computer, and he is still dead. It really happened.