Long before dawn on the morning of the funeral, a rogue wind enters April’s apartment, clattering the shells of her wind chime, causing her to bolt upright in bed. Night air seizes her. Her mind hurtles through darkness, not wanting to remember, but the realization gaining on her. It’s today. Papers fly off her nightstand. The curtains tangle and snap. She finds her way to the window, her long hair flaying, but just as she reaches the sill, the gust dies down. Against reason, her thoughts clamber for a passage back, a chance to say to him, Don’t take this trip. I have a bad feeling. Instead, they said goodbye cheerfully, without the slightest premonition.