Vivian watched my hand.

“Why?”

I set the pen down.

“I came here to serve my country and protect my family, not to destroy what little you have left.”

She put her face in the scarf.

I handed the signed waiver across the desk.

Vivian sat weeping in the chair.

The fridge door swung shut on the yellow suspension notice, still pinned under the pizza magnet, and my youngest hauled her lunch bag across the counter as if it weighed forty pounds.