The apartment was quiet.

I could hear a pipe in the wall and footsteps downstairs.

Ordinary sounds still made me turn my head.

I did not scold myself for that.

I checked the latch, checked the number by the telephone, and sat down with my daughter.

There was a court case continuing somewhere beyond those walls.

For that evening, there was also a feeding, a clean towel, and the small weight of her against my arm.

PART 7 — The Accounts They Could Not Keep Aligned