The kitchen at 1600 held three lunchboxes on the counter where the kids had left them, lids flipped open, one crust of bread in each.

I opened the banking app and let it load, then read the number twice.

Four hundred twelve dollars.

Fourteen days.

The youngest had folded a paper into her lunchbox, a drawing of the gate with a stick figure in a cap and a sun with too many rays coming off it.

I put it on the fridge under the magnet from Fort Ansel Elementary.

My son came through with his backpack still on and asked whether the bus still stopped on our corner in October.