Five days with no overly emotive days, then crying on the plane home. Strange pains in both breasts. Hormonal cycles triggering something? Sympathy pains in Lulu for Rosie? Will I really look down and see a chunk of her gone in a few days? I’be been looking at myself in the mirror with both arms overhead, admiring their perfect size, shape, symmetry. How familiar the picture and how familiar the flesh.