We watched my father’s sedan turn off our street and disappear into the evening.

I closed the heavy front door and turned the double deadbolt.

The quiet in the front hallway was complete, settled and deep.

In the kitchen, the smell of toasted oats and fresh coffee drifted across the island counter.

Ethan set his black insulated lunch cooler on the marble countertop and pulled a folded sheet of white printer paper from his back pocket.

He smoothed the paper flat against his thigh, then smoothed it a second time against the stainless steel refrigerator door.