When wake on Sunday, I’m filled with dread at the prospect of attending Elise’s memorial. I get out of bed anyway. Strangely, I never got a reply from Elise’s Mom and Dad, but maybe that’s not so strange for parents in grief.
    I did receive a reminder notice for the memorial. Someone named Ruth, who I’ve never heard of in all the time Elise and I were friends, is hosting it at an event space in SOMA.
    After I shower, I rummage through my tiny closet for a simple black day dress. I apply the bare minimum of makeup, fresh faced except for a reddish gloss, and go outside to wait for the bus.
    Even though it takes forever for the bus to arrive, because it’s a Sunday schedule, I’ve opted for this ride, as there&...

Please subscribe to keep reading.