The new place was not a performance.

It was just a home, small and real and ours, and the difference between the two is the difference between a photograph of a meal and a meal.

Chapter 23 — A Smaller, Truer House

The townhouse I chose was nothing like the life Julian had built around us.

It was modest and bright, on a street where children left bicycles lying in the grass and neighbors waved without needing a reason.

The kitchen caught the afternoon sun.