You ask. She goes very still.
JuneI've been here three years. The year isn't a beginning for me, it's a place I live.
You say you didn't mean it like that. She says you did, and she isn't angry, which is worse.
She plays the sound piece at the spring show alone. You sit at the back and hear your own footsteps and do not go up to her.
In June she takes the stairs faster than anyone, because there's no one beside her to keep pace with.