She is sitting next to me and I am reading. Or I am waiting for her to come home. Or she is home, and I am cooking dinner. Whatever it is, she feels like a stranger, and everything feels like a stranger. It is one of those times when they are changing the weather, so the chill in the air is new and startling, but the afternoon is still warm. You feel a little alien in your skin, as if you are not sure what you are thinking or how you should be.