His rough voice boomed over the faint sound of a television.

Luke stopped at the bottom step of the wooden porch and looked over his shoulder at the empty street.

“We could just leave the food on the porch and go home,” Luke said.

“We’re going inside,” I said.

“He isn’t going to want us standing in there.”

“Dana invited us to Easter dinner,” I said.

Luke shifted his awkward grip on the roasting pan.

He walked up the wooden stairs and pulled open the heavy front door.