For the first three weeks after the tow truck, it had rung nearly every afternoon.

A process server, two times.

A young reporter from the Paradise Valley paper who wanted a quote about the eviction and didn’t get one.

Mrs.

Feldman from two houses down, with a bundt cake and not a single question.

That cake was delicious.

I ate two slices standing at this same island and left the plate in the sink unrinsed.

My phone lit up on the counter with David’s office on the screen.