They stepped out together onto the concrete porch.

The late sun threw long dark shadows across the green lawn.

The yellow bike was right where Noah had left it by the bottom step.

Noah went down the wooden steps.

He reached out and took hold of the black rubber grips with both hands.

He pushed the bike slowly up the little concrete ramp of the driveway and brought it over to the edge of the porch.

He stopped at the very top of the steps.

He kept his hands on the metal frame.

“We’re home now, Dad,” Noah whispered.