He reached for a glass jar of marinara and twisted the metal lid until it popped.

Steam rose fast toward the vent over the stove.

His home phone rang loudly on the wall mount by the refrigerator.

He wiped his wet hands on a green dish towel and lifted the plastic receiver off its cradle.

“Hello?” Michael said.

“Dad, we went to the ice cream stand,” Noah said.

Noah’s voice sounded soft and completely relaxed through the little speaker.

Michael leaned against the cold edge of the counter.