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temples. She stops shaking.
    Tries to speak. It comes out like a hiss.
    3:01 p.m.
    “Cabel,” she finally says.
    “You ready to try to move?” His voice is concerned. She shakes her head slowly. Turns toward him. Reaches out. “I can"t see
    yet,” she says quietly. “How long has it been?”
    Cabel moves his hands over her shoulders and back down to her fingers.
    “Not that long,” he says softly. “A few minutes.” More like twelve.
    “That was a bad one.”
    “Yeah. Did you try to pull out of it?”
    Janie rests her forehead on the heel of her hand and rolls her head slowly,
    side to side. Her voice is weak. “I didn"t try to get out. I tried to help her
    change it. Couldn"t get her to pay any attention to me.”
    Cabel paces.
    They wait.
    Slowly Janie can make out shapes. The world fades back in.
    “Phew,” she
    says. Smiles shakily.
    “I"m driving you home,” Cabel says as the janitor comes into the library,
    eyeing them suspiciously. Cabel shoves Janie"s books into her backpack,
    a grim look on his face. He searches around in the pack and comes up
    empty-handed. “Don"t you carry anything with you? I"m out of PowerBars.”
    “Um…” Janie bites her lip. “I"m okay now. I"ll be fine. I can drive.”
    He scowls. Doesn"t respond. Helps her stand up, slings her backpack
    over his shoulder, and they walk out to the parking lot. It"s lightly snowing.
    He opens the passenger-side door of his car and looks at her, his jaw set.
    Patient.
    Waiting.
    Until she gets in.
    He drives in silence through the snow to a nearby mini-mart, goes in,
    and returns with pint of milk and a plastic bag. “Open your backpack,”
    he says.
    She does it.
    He pours half a dozen PowerBars into it. Opens a bar and hands it to her
    with the milk. “I"ll get your car later,” he says, holding his hand out for
    her keys. She looks down. Then hands them over.
    He drives her to her house.
    Stares at the steering wheel, his jaw set.
    Waits for her to get out.
    She glances at him, a puzzled expression on her face. “Oh,” she says
    finally. She swallows the lump in her throat. Takes her backpack and the
    milk and gets out of the car. Closes the door. Goes up the steps and kicks
    the snow off her shoes. Not looking back.
    He pulls out of the driveway slowly, making sure Janie gets inside okay.
    And drives away.
    ı
    Janie goes to bed, confused and sad, and takes a nap. 8:36 p.m.
    She"s awake. Starving. Looks around the house for something healthy
    and finds a tomato, growing soft in the refrigerator. There"s a tuft of
    mold on the stem. She sighs. There"s nothing else. She shrugs on her
    coat and slips on her boots, grabs fifty dollars from the grocery envelope,
    and starts walking.
    The snow is beautiful. Flakes so tiny they sparkle, sequins in the oncoming headlights and under street lamps. It"s cold, maybe twenty
    degrees out. Janie slips on her mittens and secures her coat at her throat.
    Glad she wore boots.
    When she reaches the grocery store a mile away, it"s quiet inside. A few
    shoppers stroll to the Muzak piping from the speakers. The store is
    bright with yellowy light, and Janie squints as she enters. She grabs a
    cart and heads to the produce section, shaking the snowflakes from her
    hair as she walks. She loosens her coat and tucks her mittens in her
    pockets.
    Shopping, once Janie actually gets there, is relaxing to her. She takes her
    time, reading labels, thinking about things that seem like they might
    taste good together, picking out the best vegetables, mentally calculating
    the total cost as she goes along. It"s like therapy. By the time she"s spent
    her approximate allotment, she slips through the baking aisle to get to
    the checkout. As she meanders, looking at the different kinds of oils and
    spices, she slows her cart.
    Glances to the left.
    Recalculates what"s in her cart.
    And hesitantly picks out a red box and a small round container. Puts
    them in the cart next to the eggs and milk.
    She wheels to the