Any more effort, he thought, and there might have been any at all. As it stood he could recall several pets and the occasional stranger in a CVS who had expressed more of a desire or need for his company or care. Without thinking, he walked into the kitchen and began to cook. The radio was still on in the living room, tinny and distant. He opened the back door, thinking for three whole heartbeats there would be something (a flower, balloons, her) there to greet him. There was only the patio, and spiders.
