A sealed bottle of water stood in the refrigerator beside a jar of mustard.

In a lower cabinet, a clean blue baby blanket had been folded into a square.

I photographed it where it lay.

The blanket smelled faintly of laundry soap.

There were no visible marks that explained why it had been left behind.

I imagined Mara washing it, folding it, putting it away.

Then I made myself stop.

The blanket showed that baby supplies had been in the house.