I almost told him his father had always preferred store-bought rolls, then decided the sentence served no purpose.

Not every conversation needed Roger to enter it.

When the last pan came out of the oven, the house smelled of butter and cinnamon.

I handed Elise the old card and asked her to copy it before taking it home.

She took out her phone and photographed both sides.

“Would you come to Denver again next year?” she asked.

“I’d like that.”

“Not just for holidays,” she added.