Then I took my daughters to meet their father.

PART 7 — The Woman in the White Blouse

The arrivals area smelled of coffee and the faint, warm air that moved through the doors every time someone entered.

People stood with phones in their hands, checking the display and looking up.

A child near me bounced on the balls of his feet.

Someone held flowers wrapped in clear plastic.

Another family had a sign larger than mine and seemed unable to decide who should carry it.

All of it was ordinary.