Miriam called to ask whether I preferred lemon or blueberry muffins.

Lucas remembered to take his medication and put the bottle in a place we could both see.

One evening, I came home to find him sitting on the living-room floor with an old photo album open.

He looked up nervously.

“I wasn’t reading your private letters,” he said.

“I was looking for our first vacation pictures.”

I sat on the sofa.

The photographs showed us laughing beneath a stormy sky in Oregon.