PART 1 — Seven Lunch Bags

The seven lunch bags were already lined up when Daniel moved the sugar bowl three inches to the left.

I was packing apple slices into the last bag when he straightened the coffee maker, then the salt shaker, then the stack of mail beside my elbow.

“You are moving things again,” I said.

“It was crooked.”

I put the apple slices in the seventh bag and folded the top twice.

“Daniel, what’s going on?”

He checked the clock above the refrigerator.

7:12.

“I am leaving.”

The tape on my hand caught against the paper.

I had to pull it free before answering.

“For work?”

“No.”

“Where?”

“I have a place.”

He picked up his keys, set them beside the coffee maker, and aligned them with the counter.

I waited for the rest of the sentence, the explanation that would make it temporary.