The house had not changed its appearance.

The refrigerator hummed.

The clock above the stove kept time.

A dish towel hung exactly where I had left it.

It felt impossible that a place could contain so many ordinary details and still have become unsafe.

I packed the quilt, school supplies, medical documents, and a handful of family photographs.

At the door I paused in front of a picture taken during Lily’s first day of kindergarten.

Mark was kneeling beside her, grinning.