“If you walk down that driveway, you don’t live in this house anymore,” he said.

“She’s fifteen years old, Daniel, and she has a six-centimeter mass.”

“I called our bank at ten past six this morning,” he said, tapping his gold pen against his wristwatch.

“Your debit card won’t clear a cup of coffee.”

He stepped back into the foyer and pulled the heavy oak door shut until the latch caught with a final thud.

He locked the front door and took my house keys right off my ring.