Down at the boundary line, the yellow plastic ribbons Robert had tied to the fence posts three weeks earlier were still fluttering in the wind.

I walked down the three porch steps, crossed the yard to the first wooden post, and snapped the plastic ribbons off the wire one by one.

I crumpled the yellow strips into a tight ball and shoved it into my coat pocket.

I pulled up the wooden boundary stake Robert had driven into the dirt near the drainage ditch and laid it flat on the grass.

Inside the house, the unheated hallway was quiet and dark.