“But nobody approaches the children.

Nobody photographs them again.

And if she tells me to leave, we leave.”

Raymond folded the photograph into a plain envelope.

It was an ordinary act, but it felt like the first boundary anyone in my employ had observed on Savannah’s behalf.

The house came into view shortly after four.

Warm light spread through its lower windows.

A child’s mitten hung from the porch railing, clipped there to dry.