Thirty years of silence hung in the warm air of the room, plain and heavy and settled at last.

Raymond gently laid his hand over Brandon’s on the dark library table.

Steam from the stainless kettle rose into the morning sunlight that lit up the yellow tiles above the stove.

Theodore banged his plastic spoon on the tray of his high chair, his soft blue wool blanket draped over his knees.

I measured four ounces of warm water into the bottle and stirred in the formula, watching the white swirl dissolve completely.

Three days had passed since I signed the final lease papers for the two-story townhouse on Elm Street in Bellevue.