Tucked into the narrow side pocket was a small square of pink cardboard.

I pulled it out and held it under the sink light.

It was Emma’s loyalty punch card from the market.

Six little holes were punched through the strawberry icons along the edge.

We were supposed to punch the seventh hole tomorrow afternoon.

I set the card flat on the cold granite counter.

Mark had taken my granddaughter away.

He had destroyed my wife’s trust in me.