I know that the angels are on my side and are supporting me fully in the healing journey.

Support tends to arrive without wings.

For eight weeks somebody put your bins out on a Tuesday night and never once mentioned it. Someone else stopped asking how you were, having worked out that answering that question eleven times a day was exhausting, and just sat there instead.

That is the shape most of it takes. Undramatic, faintly awkward, easy to miss while you are occupied with something frightening.

Whatever you believe is standing behind those people, the people themselves are countable. It might be worth counting them.