We didn’t get new books.”

He slipped inside before I could touch the zipper.

I stayed on the porch for a moment.

My silver wedding band was cold.

I turned it twice around my finger, a habit I noticed only when the metal resisted.

Inside, Ethan sat at the oak kitchen table with the backpack between his feet.

His knees pressed against its sides as though he were keeping it from being taken away.

I poured apple juice into a mug with a chipped handle and sliced an apple.