Mark was carrying Vanessa’s second leather tote bag to the trunk of his silver sedan.

Vanessa stood by the passenger door, holding up a hand mirror to check her hair in the autumn sunlight.

They both acted as if the house were already empty, as if I had already packed my cardboard boxes and walked away.

I crossed the soft bedroom rug to the edge of the bed and sat down on the linen bedspread.

My thumb found the small metal zipper pull on the inside pocket of my purse and drew it open.