“First thing tomorrow morning,” Arthur said.

I picked up my duffel bags and walked out into the warm afternoon air.

Six weeks later, I parked a small rented moving truck in a quiet driveway across town.

Dry oak leaves scattered across the paved walkway as I lowered the rolling door of the truck.

I picked up my last cardboard box from the bumper.

The box weighed barely ten pounds.

I carried it up the front steps and unlocked the solid wood door.