He rubbed his thumb against his knuckle.

“I’ll be over for breakfast Tuesday morning,” Derek said.

At four o’clock the sunlight slid across the dining room floorboards.

Michael stood at the kitchen sink clearing away the lunch dishes.

He scraped the leftover bread crusts into the metal trash can under the counter.

Noah sat at the big wooden table with a sheet of blank white printer paper laid perfectly flat in front of him.

An open blue plastic box of colored pencils sat by his elbow.