“That was a setup.”

Martha set her fork down and folded her apron in half.

She looked smaller in the red chair than she had all summer.

I thought about my silence at the grill, the wet towel folded on the arm of another chair.

My patience had given Brandon room to build a paper wall with my name on it.

At four thirty I walked out Martha’s front door to get my purse from the car.

Brandon’s pickup sat at the curb with the driver’s window down two inches.