He hadn’t been confused at all.

He had been working in the dark, standing between his daughter and the man who wanted to strip us clean.

I opened my eyes and looked at the back door of the house.

The kitchen light was on, throwing a warm yellow square across the wooden porch steps.

The six blue folders were locked inside Samuel’s safe deposit box downtown, and the bank holds on the house title were being lifted page by page.

A small brown sparrow landed on the edge of the cedar bench, hopped twice, and flew off toward the garage eaves.