She had spent a lifetime learning that not opening Arthur’s door, or not answering his call, produced consequences.

I could not remove that training with a reassuring sentence.

We arranged the small clothes by size.

We argued mildly about whether the lamp should go beside the chair or the dresser.

I lost because Clara was right about the cord.

When we finished, she placed the blanket over the crib rail.

I stood beside her, imagining a hand curled around my finger.

There are moments a person remembers afterward with a precision they did not possess while living them.