“Vic, I’m back in Boston. We need to clear out the joint storage unit before the lease ends. Let me know when you’re free this week.”

I stood at the top of the subway stairs, the wind whipping my hair across my face.

The message felt like a heavy hand pulling me back into the dark apartment we used to share.

It brought back the memory of the empty crib we had bought too early, and the day he packed his boxes while I sat on the bathroom floor.

I did not reply.

I locked the screen, shoved the phone deep into my pocket, and walked down into the noisy, warm hum of the station.

Saturday morning arrived with a gray sky and the smell of impending snow in the air.

The Brookline Public Library was a beautiful stone building with large oak doors.

Inside, the lobby was warm, smelling of old paper and wet umbrellas.

I stood near the return desk, nervously smoothing the front of my knitted sweater.

“Victoria!”

A small voice echoed off the high ceiling.