So was the kitchen light, and behind the kitchen window someone moved from the counter to the fridge and back.

Ruth from next door came out with her trash can, spotted the rental, and waved with her entire arm.

I waved back.

It was the most normal thing that had happened to me in six days.

Then headlights swung across the driveway, and an Uber pulled up at the curb.

Brooke climbed out of the back seat with three shopping bags, the stiff kind with rope handles, from the shop on Scottsdale Road that won’t give out plastic.

She carried them to the door without once changing her grip.