The basement door closed behind him with a quiet, exact click, one I had never noticed in twenty-nine years of that door.

I sat down on the third step with my phone in my hand, scrolled back through the family thread to Sunday, to my question about dark meat, and read it twice.

Then I got my coat and drove back to Hiawatha.

The boots were still on the shelf where I had left them.

The cashier was a young man who called me ma’am and asked if I wanted the box or just the bag.

I took the box, because I have a shelf in the front closet for boxes.