Mark had turned the thermostat down to sixty-two degrees before leaving on his trip.

I sat at the kitchen counter with a bowl of instant noodles I had heated in the microwave three hours earlier, now cold.

The silent room felt bigger than usual, filled only with the faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner.

I cleared a small square of space on the marble counter, pushing aside a stack of unopened utility notices and my old blue vinyl file binder.

I pulled my wool coat off the back of the kitchen chair and reached into the deep inside pocket for my car keys.