“I left the garage door remotes on the kitchen counter next to the stainless steel sink,” he said.

I didn’t answer him and turned toward the screen door that opened onto the wooden deck.

The late afternoon air had turned crisp, carrying the sharp smell of damp oak leaves and garden mulch.

I sat on the top step of the back porch, resting my forearms on my knees as the shadows stretched across the lawn.

Evelyn came out through the screen door with two white ceramic mugs of coffee and handed one to me.

“The moving truck just backed out into the street,” Evelyn said, sitting down on the step beside me.