At nine, when the children were asleep in Nora’s guest room, I went home with Nora beside me.

Grant was gone.

Olivia’s perfume lingered in the hallway.

The two suitcases had been shoved into the kitchen, one unzipped so carelessly that my winter sweaters spilled out.

My photograph with Eleanor lay facedown on the table.

Nothing was missing from the children’s rooms.

I checked twice anyway.

In our study I found something stranger.