I’d never seen her cry like that. Made me cry like that. Jesus. All the pain coming out. Remembering how we’d quit our jobs. How doom had crept over us. Every morning we woke up to find our existences worse. I’d sold the bed, the couch, the chairs, the kitchen table. I’d sold everything. Then we slept on the floor. Her father got sicker, lost the farm. We thought the world was against us. She used to meditate ten hours a day for an answer that never came.