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On my first day at the new job I scanned my whole body and could not find a name

I felt like a biblical error, I had to lie down

Etiquette says a young widow must not dress in flashy jet

Etiquette says children under 8 in black mourning are too sad

I felt like any words I spoke would take the form of a confession

I confessed pages of telephone numbers but nobody picked up

It was the night shift

The night like a long room with windows in inconvenient places

I did not know how to arrange the furniture in a beautiful way

I had been trained in how to love people a little

Though I worked many hours there was nobody there

I mean I never saw another soul, least of all my own