“The locks are changed.”

He grabbed the window sash with both hands, slammed it down hard into the frame, and twisted the lock shut.

The sound of Mark shutting and locking the front window overhead echoed across the damp lawn.

I stood on the grass for two minutes while the wind blew a sheet of old newspaper across the driveway.

I picked up the plastic bowls, the wire whisk, and the two sneakers and put them back in the crushed cardboard box.

My drafting board was still in the hall closet.