I folded the drawing back into its four neat squares and tucked it into my sweater pocket beside the court filing.

At eight thirty, the lights in the main house started going out one at a time.

Daniel came out the side door by the garage, hauling a heavy blue plastic recycling bin to the curb.

His shoes crunched on the gravel driveway as he put the bin down next to the mailbox.

I went down the concrete path from the casita and met him at the back end of my Buick.

“I need my car keys, Daniel,” I said.