Did I enjoy the book I was reading?
Did I want to spend Saturday with friends?
Was I tired?
Was I angry?
Did I want to talk?
Did I need time alone?
These questions seemed almost embarrassingly simple.
Yet answering them honestly felt like returning to a part of myself I had neglected for years.
Daniel noticed the change.
One evening, he came downstairs and found me reading in the living room.
“You’re going out tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“With whom?”
“Rachel.”
He nodded.
“What time will you be home?”
