I handed over a ten-dollar bill and eight quarters from the coin pocket of my purse.

The clerk stuffed the dress into a gray plastic grocery bag that rattled in the cold wind as we walked out to the car.

At six o’clock Friday evening, I was sitting on the wooden steps of our front porch.

The air was turning sharp, and down the block the deep rumble of diesel welding trucks bounced off the gravel drive by the lumberyard.

My phone buzzed in my coat pocket.