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I visited once a week. He never had visitors \u2014 no cards, no flowers, not even a box of chocolates. Just silence and a thin blue curtain around his bed.<\/p>\n
The first time I walked in, I wasn\u2019t sure he\u2019d even remember me. But he looked up slowly and blinked at me for a long time before giving a single, slow nod.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou came,\u201d he said, voice rough but steady.<\/p>\n
\u201cI did,\u201d I replied, sitting at the edge of the chair near his bed. \u201cI\u2019m Marisol. I\u2019m not sure if you knew my name.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mr. Whitmore smiled gently.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow are the dogs?\u201d he asked, turning his head toward the window.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re\u2026 adjusting. Ruth keeps dragging my throw pillows into the kitchen,\u201d I said. \u201cBalthazar has claimed the entire couch. And Comet barks at the vacuum and the dishwasher.\u201d<\/p>\n
He gave another faint smile.<\/p>\n