I would wake up in the cold mornings, always white, always windows open, up and at ‘em. Folding stark sheets, unfolding, folding again. She was obsessed. Frost cracked on the window. She would knock on my bedroom door, come in, rip the pillow out from under my head. Glasses clinked in the kitchen before I came down. Early morning coffee, toast only, everything else had too many calories. If you didn’t want toast and coffee you could have water and fresh fruit. Whatever it was that week.