Daniel zipped up his large leather suitcase.

He dragged it across the floor and stood it upright near the edge of the kitchen island.

The wheels left faint tracks on the polished wood.

I sat across from him at the granite counter, sliding a fresh pink crayon toward Lily.

She was hunched over a pink butterfly coloring page on the breakfast bar.

She was focused entirely on staying inside the black lines of the upper wing.

“Do you have everything you need for Denver?” I asked.

“My flight boards at nine.” Daniel adjusted his watch strap.

He checked the metal clasp twice, snapping it open and shut.

He always did that when his schedule was tight.

He picked up the glass coffee pot from the machine.

He poured the last of the morning brew into his tall steel travel mug.

He screwed the black lid on tight.

He didn’t look in my direction.

“Just a story I heard at the office about custody,” Daniel said out of nowhere.

“About what happens when a mother is declared unfit.”

I stopped sliding the crayon across the granite.

I rubbed my thumbnail against my index finger.