There had been no funeral — a small private cremation, family only, before I came along — and there was a photograph in a silver frame, and once a year on the twelfth of February my wife did not want to talk very much and I did not push her.

He was standing in a doorway in Norwalk in a fleece vest with his hand on my daughter’s head.

Part Four: The Window

There was a window on the east side of the building, about five and a half feet off the ground, with the bottom two-thirds papered over from the inside with what turned out to be a page from a trade catalogue taped up in 2011.

I stood at that window for fifty-one minutes.