Later, when I went home, I left Arthur’s porch light on for the evening gathering.

Across the path, our own windows glowed warmly.

The oak tree stood between them, shading both houses, and for the first time in a long while I felt no need to count what had been lost or what had been gained.

The suitcase had once made my hands shake because of what was inside it.

Now I knew the most valuable thing Arthur had left was already outside the case: a reason to keep opening the door.