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As I left the memorial that night, I was emotionally drained, chilled to the bone from standing outside and deeply thankful that this time, for this shooting, I wouldn’t be staring at the blank wall of a hotel room all night.

He was wearing two coats but was still, as he put it, “chilled to the bone.”

I froze in the entrance of the Krupp Pavilion, chilled to the bone although the sun beat hot on my face.

I flinched away, chilled to the bone, as if I had one foot back in that wintry afternoon when I’d first met him.

These few errands left me chilled to the bone, so cold that not even the window displays at the clothing store called The Fad could draw me in.