And then there was the baby. The baby that she wouldn’t look at, the baby she couldn’t look at, the breast milk that dripped and soaked into her shirt. But it was wasted milk because the baby was gone. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t cry, why she had no tears. She was dried up. Long ago, she had dried up, the tears all dripped out of her from her breasts when she gave away that piece of herself. She felt her knees give out beneath her, not a true faint, just a weakness so that she could no longer stand or even sit.She needed the ground, she needed to get down as far as she could go, to the ground, she wanted to crawl into the ground, she wanted to dig a hole like a dog, crawl into a den, she got down on the floor between the chairs and curled up into a ball. As tight as she could get. The floor was cold. She felt the hardness of it against her hip bone and against her ankle.