years of meals, medicine, solitary vacations, and late-night conversations had been reduced to four hundred dollars. I asked if I could have the little radio I kept in the closet. Julian said I could have anything that really belonged to me. Near the window hung a framed photograph of the mansion at sunset. Mr. Whitaker had given it to me years before.
“He told me I could have this photo.”
Julian just looked at it.
“This cheap thing? Take it and go.”
I pressed the frame to my chest, not
