He said I ask too many questions.” She said it lightly, as a fact she had been given and had learned to carry.

Down the hall, a door clicked shut upstairs.

I squatted so our faces were level.

“You haven’t done anything wrong.

Do you hear me?”

She nodded once, the way children nod when they want a conversation to be over.

I said I needed to wash my hands, and I said it out loud on the way, which was for whoever was listening.

The guest bathroom had a mirror with a chipped corner and a hand towel folded into a triangle.