ABSTRACT
The second time he went home was easier than the time before. He steeled himself against the transition by anticipating its rough and compassionless edges, knowing full well that the first few days would be the worst. Doctor Pettle helped, writing prescriptions for the medications he needed a day in advance, ensuring that the pain at least would be held at bay. Deirdre braced herself, too, preparing the space of the flat to resemble, as closely as she could imagine, his home before everything had begun. She placed photographs on tables and counters and, in homage to his relative untidiness, scattered a few books around here and there.
