Alexander:
By late afternoon Serena had started to act like herself again, and that was the surest sign she was feeling better.
She was stretched out on the couch beside me with her legs tucked beneath her. The notebook I’d given her rested on her lap, though she had not written a word in it. Instead, she told stories in that sarcastic way of hers, making even the worst memories sound like something worth laughing about. Hearing her laugh felt like a small victory, and I found myself watching her more than listening.
She had refused to stay in bed once the soreness eased enough for her to move without wincing. If I expected her to spend the entire day trapped in my rooms, she had said, then she was at least going to sit somewhere that did not remind her why she was sore. I had laughed,
