I’m wearing jeans and a sweater that’s too big because it’s not mine. My smell’s not mine either—I used his Axe in the shower this morning, rubbed it into my skin as if it could make the inflammation go down. Then I stood in the shower for another ten minutes, ice-cold water pounding against my chest while I did my breathing exercises, trying to expand my ribs. Afterwards, I counted them, my ribs, just to make sure they were all still there. No one loses ribs, he said when I told him, and I sat down and counted them again.