I squeezed my hands shut and accepted that the dull pain was going to be my constant companion.

By Tuesday evening, the swelling had gone down enough for me to hold a pen comfortably.

I sat at our small kitchen desk, staring at a blank sheet of lined notebook paper.

Luke stood at the stove, stirring a pot of chili with a wooden spoon.

“Should I start by introducing us, or just get right to the point?” I asked.

“Did you put the extra cumin in?” Luke asked, looking down at the red sauce.