She started buttoning Lily’s jacket with quick, sharp tugs, fastening every button up to the neck.

We walked to the front door, and the damp autumn wind cut through the screen the moment the deadbolt slid back.

Wet yellow oak leaves were plastered across the three concrete steps, black along the veins where the wet weather had rotted them.

Rebecca stepped down onto the first step, her boots leaving dark ovals on the pale stone.

Then she stepped back up toward me and pulled me against her coat.

Her arms locked around my back, and she smelled of cold wool and lemon mints.