She picked up a brown crayon and pressed it hard into the paper.

Emma didn’t understand apology flowers; she only understood who was safe and who wasn’t.

At one o’clock a heavy knock shook the apartment door again.

I went to the entry and looked through the brass peephole.

My father was standing in the hall.

He had a brown paper grocery bag in each arm.

Celery stalks and a loaf of bread poked out of the top of the left one.

I undid the deadbolt and pulled the door open.