The young clerk at the register smiled and handed me the paper bag without asking who I was or where I was headed.

I got back to the coastal apartment at three in the afternoon.

Bright sun poured through the clean windows facing the ocean, laying warm yellow squares across the hardwood floor of the living room.

I went into the bedroom and picked up Evelyn’s reading glasses from the side table by the lamp.

The thin gold wire frames were light in my hand.

The left arm still bore the tiny scratch by the hinge from the summer we repainted the back porch in Oakridge.