Driving the truck made Siobhan feel childlike as she stretched to reach the pedals. It was annoying, but she always brought it on visiting days. Unlike her car, it had keyless entry. The rest of the week the pickup sat in the driveway, a three-ton reminder that Nick wasn’t there. After finding a parking spot, she slipped her license in her pocket. She squeezed her purse, keys, and phone under the front seat. They wouldn’t allow her to bring them inside with her.

She closed the door and caught sight of her reflection in the window. It was washed out, almost translucent. Strangled by the fear that she was disappearing by degrees, Siobhan didn’t dare check the side mirror. Bony fingers tucked a limp curl behind her ear. A sigh fogged the glass.

Stop stalling.

She braced herself and headed inside the windowless building. It was stark and astringent brick, authoritative and disapproving. Inside wasn’t any better – unwelcoming decor and the persistence of industrial cleaners that left scent