Overview

The city of Houston does not sleep easily in July. The heat lingers past midnight, rising from the asphalt in slow, invisible waves, settling over the bayous and the flatlands like a second skin. By the time the rest of the country has pulled on a light jacket and called the evening cool, Houston is still sweating - still exhaling the day's burn into a sky too thick and close to offer relief. It was in this kind of heat that Donna died. And it was in this heat that Bill first understood how quickly the world a man builds over a lifetime can be taken from him - not just the woman he loved, but the practice, the purpose, the very stability of his mind and body. All of it. Gone. He was sixty-two years old when he buried her in his heart, because her family would not let him stand at her grave. This is that story.

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