She didn’t glance over her shoulder toward the hallway or reach up to twist the loose threads on her sleeve.

“We can pick up fresh berries at the grocery store after four,” I said.

Evan sat down across from her and sipped from his white ceramic mug.

“I can grab a carton of milk on my way home from the clinic,” Evan said.

“Get the two percent,” I said.

I picked up my fork and sat down in my place at the head of the dark wooden table.

On the edge of the granite counter next to the coffee maker lay the little brass door key.