Alone at night in her too big bed and too empty house she lets her mind wander, trailing her hand downwards to push aside damp cotton. It’s the only time that she thinks about what she's lost--what she wishes she still had. And when she comes she bites her lip to keep from whispering his name--the wrong name. As long as she doesn’t say it out loud she can keep pretending that she’s made the right choice. And tomorrow when she picks up Stan at the airport she’ll force a smile and hope that it reaches her eyes.