I don't even know why I'm typing this but I can't sleep and the heater in this apartment makes the loudest clicking sound—anyway I'm 59 years old and I moved to the city six months ago because I thought, well, my husband is gone and the kids are grown and I spent my whole life in that town where everyone knows what color socks you're wearing before you even put them on. I wanted to be a ghost, I guess. Or I wanted to see if there was anything left of me besides being a widow and a mother and the lady who works at the post office.