The baby was wrapped tightly in his blue wool blanket, holding the frayed edge against his chin as he looked around at the tall mahogany bookcases.

Brandon got up from his chair right away, wiping his hands on the sides of his jeans.

“Can I hold him?” Brandon asked.

I stopped at the edge of the rug, squeezing my left wrist with my thumb as the memory of our empty basement room came back to me.

I thought of the sixty dollars he had left on the table before he disappeared into the night.

Then I looked at Theodore’s round, dark eyes and the way his small hand reached toward Brandon’s coat.