“Good.”

Mason announced that Christmas Eve dinner should be grilled cheese sandwiches because they were “the safest food in a blizzard.” Lauren laughed, and the sound went straight through me.

I had once known that laugh as well as my own name.

Now it belonged to a life that had continued without me.

At dinner, Mason explained the science of rockets according to a library book he’d borrowed.

He wanted to build one that launched with air pressure.