Three folded blouses had been taken out and put on the chair, which is a thing you do when you are feeling for the bottom of a drawer.

I knelt down to look under the bed for a dust cloth I had seen there the day before, and my fingers hit metal.

It was a cookie tin.

Round, about nine inches, with faded strawberries on the lid and a dent in one side.

It had been under that bed for as long as I had been alive and I had assumed, my entire life, that it had buttons in it.

Susan came and stood in the doorway.