This room was the shrine of a man in love. I sank to the bed, closet doors still open as I stared at the evidence. I wasn’t sure how to pick something of hers to wear, not only because she’d managed to dress like a hippie for centuries but because it seemed wrong, somehow, to disturb the things he’d kept safe over the years as she’d transitioned from Scandinavian forest maiden to nomadic yoga fiend. She’d changed, and he’d let her.
