“The metal slide’s too cold today,” Noah said.

“We can just sit here,” Michael said.

Two gray squirrels chased each other up the thick trunk of a big maple.

Noah watched them without moving.

The fear that had kept his shoulders tight and his voice low for months was gone.

Michael tugged at his watch strap.

He looked at the empty asphalt lot, the quiet neighborhood street and the calm faces of the few people out walking their dogs.

No dark blue pickup would ever pull up to that curb again.