So by 2pm on Saturday Sadie was drinking peppermint tea downstairs with Mrs Zimmerman, who explained chamomile was for after dark. And she was being quizzed about her cat.

“It’s not really a cat.”

In the daylight Sadie saw an entire apartment wall was packed with paper books. It was cool and strange to think about people leafing through them. Different people? How had Mrs Zimmerman known where they’d been?

“Do you want to borrow one?”

Sadie wasn’t really sure how she’d read a paper book. Should she wear gloves?

“Oh I forget, books spread disease to you young people. These are fine you know. They won’t hurt you.”

Wow she was even getting kind of psychic.

“Mrs Z you seem a lot better today.”

“That’s how dementia works honey. Some days are better than others.”

Sadie walked over to the books. Books on coding, books of poetry, books on Ai and robotics, books for assembling food yourself, and books on dementia. She pulled that last book out from the shelf. Living with Dementia.

“Mrs Z, your grandson offered me a job to take care of you. But I don’t know anything about dementia.”

“That’s what doctors are for kid. Now, have you ever heard of Playstation?” She sat on her couch and patted the seat next to her, feeling under the couch for two of those old hand held game devices. “Helper, lower screen and initiate Zero Dawn.”

A pre-immersion game platform? Mrs Z might have forgotten a lot of things but she had complete mastery of an old fashioned game. She played an archer who stormed around a world populated by dino-robot creatures. Sadie’s back up character jogged after Mrs Z and tried not to get not the way.

“Pause game!” Mrs Z sighed and sat back on the cushions of her couch. She looked tired. Sadie was exhilarated from watching the old game, but the older woman was deflated.

“How about I make you a snack?” Sadie asked, getting up.

“Thank you dear,” Mrs Z replied, starif now at her wall of books as the screen retracted.

“What would you like?” Sadie called from the kitchen. There was no answer so she popped her head back into the other room to find Mrs Z standing, a puzzled look on her face, then one of irritation.

“I. Can’t think of the word. For the food I want.”

“Well I hope the word is ‘sandwich’ Gamer Girl because that’s the sort of cuisine I know how to assemble.”

In a strange way Sadie was relieved to see Mrs Z having a memory lapse, she’d started to think last night was an aberration that a good night’s sleep and meds could control. But she was sad too, she liked the woman she’d met this morning, a woman who had a playful side and who was independent and happy. She didn’t like seeing her confused.

She smeared protein spread on some good smelling bread and added some fresh green stuff she didn’t know the name of but looked healthy. Mrs Z had quality food deliveries.

But Mrs Z was asleep when she brought the food back. She looked small and fragile curled up among the cushions. Sadie tucked a small rug over her and picked up the paper book about dementia. She thought it might be useless last century information but there was a chapter on how to talk to people with dementia and how outdated could that be? Her stomach rumbled.

“You can eat that if you like,” said Mrs Z, “you hold books weird.”

“Oh, you’re awake! I made that for you,” Sadie pushed the plate toward her chage.

“I might be demented but I like my fruit cake without Marmite and lettuce.”

“Crap. Well okay I’ll try it then, even if it’s wrong.”

Sadie took a bite.

“Hmm. Nothing can prepare you for this Marmite stuff. How are you feeling now?”

“Good enough to make my own lunch, and then go upstairs to meet your cat.”

“It’s not actually a cat you know.”