Sophie ate the crusts first, dipping them in a little puddle of ketchup in the corner of her plate.

“Are we sleeping here again on Monday night?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“We’ll sleep right here.”

She passed me her empty plate and picked up her gray rabbit by one arm.

By ten o’clock Sunday night, the apartment was completely silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator.

I set up the folding ironing board in the bedroom and switched on the steam iron.

The blue court dress had short sleeves and a plain high neckline that lay flat across my collarbone.