“She would’ve wept if she’d had any tears left, but her eyes were red and dry. She turned out the light. “Good night,” he finally called, and he sounded like himself again. She laid her cool palms against the pulsing heat of her eyelids. She would’ve smiled, but she didn’t have any of those left either.”

“She would’ve wept if she’d had any tears left, but her eyes were red and dry. She turned out the light. “Good night,” he finally called, and he sounded like himself again. She laid her cool palms against the pulsing heat of her eyelids. She would’ve smiled, but she didn’t have any of those left either.”

— Lily Brooks-Dalton