“So you come back.”

I put it in my shirt pocket and patted it twice, then carried her down the back stairs with the bag over my shoulder.

The garage button in the mudroom was the size of a silver dollar.

The door went up, and the cold came in low along the floor.

I had her strapped into the back of the Buick before I remembered I didn’t own a booster seat.

She was five and small, and the shoulder belt crossed her throat, so I put it behind her back and told myself it was one mile to the corner.