Sister Clara looked stunning. Elena was hunched forward in her wheelchair. She was wearing the old grey, down-filled coat we brought twelve years ago when we went skiing in Méribel. Her hair had been brushed and a small pomponette daisy placed amongst the curls. She’s what’s left of us now. A bag of bones. Life has been cruel. I’ve been given a few more pages to write upon. Elena hasn’t. We had always wanted to go to Zürich. Suddenly we were there, between the station and the museum – between Journey and artefact. It seems odd that we’ve finally said goodbye.

 “So this is the end,” Elena muttered sadly as she looked into my eyes. Sister Clara will sit with her until the end. “I’m jealous,” Elena said. “But I’m glad it’s me in this chair and not you. You would never have coped and I would have been a wreck.”

A large white butterfly fluttered about Elena’s head until settling on the daisy. We all remained silent and motionless as if a prayer was being said. If there had been any doubts in Elena’s mind they would have gone at that point. She would have seen the butterfly as a sign that it was time to go.

Elena smiled. Her eyes filled with tears but she held them back. Sister Clara did not. “We’ve said all we need to say, haven’t we? You’ll be alright, both of you. Clara will return to the convent until she’s assigned to some other forgotten soul. For that I’ve written her a good reference. Remember our holiday in Méribel when you think about me. I was happiest there. Do what you want with my ashes but maybe…” Elena stopped and then looked across at the station. “That’s enough. You have a train to catch and I have an appointment with a needle.”

I said nothing. I stood there mute. “I’d like to kiss you.” I whispered. “I know we said we wouldn’t.” I knelt on the ground next to her. The hard tarmac was warm and felt strangely comforting. “We’ll miss the place that’s you. I’ll miss your eyes watching me. Clara will miss being told how to do your housework.”

“I’m sorry,” said Elena. “And I thank you. Truly. Now, when we’ve kissed you must go. Say nothing. See nothing. Close your eyes as our lips touch and remember only my taste for as long as you can.”

We kissed.

She touched my cheek with her warm hand. “Good luck with tomorrow,” she said.

From the station I messaged Emilia and Leo and told them that their mum was on the tram to Forch. They were planning to walk to the abbey to sit and pray at this point. They had wanted to be with her but Elena wanted to do the journey alone.

Nina must be feeling very alone.

The world has become less opaque. But my soul is heavy.

I’m on the train to Geneva. I’m sitting next to a woman with a green, crocodile skin handbag. It’s maybe fake, but I wonder how many handbags you can get from one crocodile? Elena would have scorned at the woman. Emilia too. Leo would point out that a crocodile would probably get three meals out of a single human. We’d all laugh. The woman would move to another seat. She’s attractive. She’s wearing a deep-red cardigan and a short skirt. Her legs are covered in black nylon. She has her own way of coping with being alive.

“Humans are meaning makers. Ironically, our presence is meaningless.” Elena said that last week at the hotel over breakfast. She began to lose her faith when she became ill. She lost her faith when she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. It was hanging by a thread anyway. Her loss of faith was my fault. I used to say: “Have faith in life and faith in God will follow.”

I’m writing all this down for you.

You are the reader.