“The little knitted bear,” I said.

“It smells like our house.”

Then I stopped.

It didn’t smell like the house in Upper Arlington.

It smelled like Marisol’s laundry detergent and the small room where we’d slept for weeks.

Home had changed more quickly than I expected.

Work was both familiar and strange.

I could build a grant budget in an hour but had difficulty concentrating when I knew Miles was somewhere else.