Four sealed boxes were stacked against the wall, labeled for my new two-bedroom apartment on High Street overlooking the park.

“His mother called me two hours ago,” Paige said, crossing her arms and tapping her right foot on the rug.

“She wanted to know if you were keeping his grandfather’s silver cufflinks.”

“They were in his leather gym bag when he took it on Friday,” I said, folding a heavy winter blanket into another box.

“I don’t have anything left that belongs to him.”

Paige leaned against the doorway, watching me line up the edges of the cardboard flaps.