The Woman in the Window

I wolfed a sandwich, guzzled a juice box.

never ate dinner, I remembered. They must be famished.

was a shock to see it so pristine; my husband was bleeding, my daughter was injured, my body was damaged, our SUV was destroyed—but the phone had survived unmarked

And the drugs: Did I take the right quantity this morning? Did I take the right pills? I’ve been sloppy lately, I know. No wonder Dr. Fielding thinks I’m getting worse. “You’ve been bad,” I chide myself.

Green Mountains, bulging like shoulders from the earth, that he began to thaw. Olivia had gone breathless. “I’ve never seen such things,” sh

GrannyLizzie: Do I sound like a hillbilly saying that? Should I just say NYC??

verweight?” I say. “Prematurely gray?” I really am soused.

Within ten minutes we’re glugging the wine.

“That’s mildew,” he says, hushed, like a doctor gently breaking news to a patient.
“Can we just brush it off?”
“Not going to fix it.”
“What will?”

Do you want a lint roller? For the dander?” I’m