Steph shrugs. She never really knows how to respond when people tell her they’re sorry she’s dead. She’s not really sure how sorry she is. She’d thought once about what the next years of her life would have been like if she had survived, and the thought of so much bedrest, healing and physical therapy made her shudder.

“Mostly it means I find it hard to really care about a lot of this stuff.” She keeps picking at the threads, hoping Anne doesn’t think she means the sewing. She can care about sewing for its own sake.