He picked up his boots and walked past me into the kitchen in his thick wool socks.

I stood alone on the porch and looked down at the dead phone.

We drove back toward Kearney in the early afternoon.

The heater vents blew dry air against my shins.

The wind had picked up a lot, pushing hard against the passenger side of the minivan.

The tires hummed on the asphalt.

Luke gripped the steering wheel with both hands and watched the solid yellow center line of the two-lane highway.

“He’s going to look at the contract,” Luke said.