I stayed in the doorway until she reached the end of our yard, where the town streetlight cast an orange circle on the wet pavement.

She walked through the light and turned onto Elm Street, her small shadow fading into the darkness between the big maples.

I pulled the heavy oak door closed against the night air.

The heavy click of the front door lock shutting out the cold wind.

I turned from the deadbolt and looked across the hall into the front room.

Lily stood by the sofa with her hands twisted tight in the hem of her birthday shirt.

“Is she coming back?” Lily asked.