A few hours later, I was on the fringes of sleep, working my way to the waking world. I heard a noise, a familiar noise, and, just for a few seconds, it was like every other morning, and quelonzia was sitting down to her computer to check her mail.
It was just the rain, and the wind.
It wasn't like every other morning. This is my last morning here, in this house. This is my last morning here, in our bed.
And she's still in the air, still winging her way back from the Philippines.
But not back to me.
I'll be gone before she gets here.
That's what she asked.
"Oh, she's at her computer."
But it's just the rain.