I married a stranger I met in a hospital waiting room so he wouldn’t die alone—after just one week of marriage, his lawyer handed me his backpack.

office above the bookstore smelled faintly of old paper and coffee.

The green backpack rested beside my chair.

“I’ve read the notebook,” I said.

Paying attention had been the way he loved people.

He nodded. “I thought you might.”

“But I still don’t understand why he married me.”

The attorney was quiet for a long moment.

Then he asked, “What did Thomas ever continue reading …