“After you wash your hands,” I said.

The zipper on the snack bag caught on a loose thread.

I pulled it free.

When I looked up, Emma had one foot on the planter wall.

“Emma.”

She climbed higher.

Her hand found the metal rail.

The rail leaned out from the wood.

Then it came away in her hand.

She fell backward.

The back of her head hit the deck.

She did not cry.

She did not sit up.

Marcus dropped the mower handle.