On the second day in Halifax, she sat near the waterfront watching gulls fight over something invisible in the wind.
She realized no one knew exactly where she was.
Not room number.
Not restaurant.
Not street.
She was simply there.
June bought chowder.
Walked too far.
Got lost.
Asked a stranger for directions.
Returned to the hotel with sore feet and no one’s problems solved.
She slept beautifully.
—
A year after the engagement party, Ethan and Claire invited June to dinner.
Their townhouse looked almost the same.
Cream sofa.
Gray rug.
Minimal shelves.
Not a magnet on the refrigerator.
June walked upstairs before dinner because Claire called from the bedroom.
“Come look.”
The quilt covered their bed.
Not folded at the foot.
Not stored.
Spread across the mattress.
The colors were louder than everything else in the room.
Red flannel.
Old hockey blue.
Faded curtains.
Cream-green dress fabric.
Navy suit cloth.
Beaumont uniform gray.
Claire stood with her arms crossed.
“It ruins the palette.”
June laughed.
“Terribly.”
“I hate how much I like it.”
Ethan appeared in the doorway.
“She makes the bed now.”
Claire turned.
