By six in the evening, the sun was setting right behind the Gibbon water tower.

We packed up our leftovers in the bright kitchen.

I held June’s glass serving plate flat against my chest.

It was empty now.

I had washed it by hand in the stainless steel sink.

The thick patterned glass was still warm from the soapy dishwater.

Luke carried the big aluminum roasting pan out through the entryway.

The temperature had dropped sharply.