Received a package today. It was Alice’s favorite perfume—a scent I’d almost forgotten. Noah must have ordered it, thinking it would bring me comfort. He doesn’t know that for a moment, when I opened the bottle, I was 65 again, standing in our old hallway as she came home from the market. The fragrance hasn’t changed, but the world around it has. Now I keep the bottle on the windowsill, uncapped. Let the memory fill the room, not the silence.