I gave him a light one filled with towels.

He carried it solemnly to the car, moving as if entrusted with something precious.

At the apartment, we sat cross-legged on the carpet eating takeout noodles while the kitchen smelled of fresh bread from downstairs.

Tommy pointed toward the empty wall and suggested we draw a map of all the places we’d lived.

“Only two,” I said.

“That’s enough for a map.”

He was right.