Before I stepped down toward the waiting transport, I took my phone from my cardigan pocket and composed a single formal message, sent at once to a group chat with my mother, my father, my sister, and Gregory.

It stated plainly that no room in my residence was to be converted into a business office under any circumstances.

That no belongings were to be moved or removed from the property.

That no family member had any authority to claim ownership of the estate.

And, finally, that my parents’ open-ended stay in my home was terminated as of that morning, with a thirty-day window to secure other housing.

Four phones buzzed almost in unison in the cold air.