They moved to the dining table.

Owen and I sat with Elena in the adjoining room, close enough to hear without hovering.

Autumn showed Noah the beginning of a song she’d written about the school bell.

The chorus described it as a tiny metal tyrant.

Noah supplied a ridiculous rhythm by drumming softly on the table.

By the time we left, they were arguing cheerfully over whether the tune should be slow or fast.

On the porch, Elena thanked me for letting Autumn have an ordinary afternoon.