He sat down hard on the top porch step, his shoulders dropping three inches as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

I sat down right beside him, pulling my coat tight against the spring wind.

A strange, ragged sound came out of Nate’s chest, half cough and half laugh.

I looked at his profile, at his red ears and his set jaw, and then I started laughing too.

We sat together on the sagging porch step in the middle of two point three acres of wild grass.

The ring of seven skeleton keys lay in Nate’s lap, clinking softly as we laughed until my ribs hurt in the cold air.