When she is sick, the world feels different. For twenty-four hours or forty-eight hours or maybe even for a week until she feels better, I am tense. When she is well again, the world becomes bright. At the moment, our windows have no curtains. When we bought this house, the contract said ‘curtains – excluded’. “Oh,” we said to the real estate agent, “are they taking the curtains with them?”. “No,” he replied, “at first she thought she would, but I convinced her not to, don’t worry about that.” And so we signed the contract.

I sit with Maddie on my lap, looking straight across at the neighbour’s windows through our own curtainless glass doors and I think, “I hate it when she is sick,” and also, “Never trust a real estate agent.”