Thirteen Years Later, Two Blue Competition Badges Answered Every Question

They went up the stairs arguing about the last of the milk.

Water ran.

A door shut.

The house went back to the shape it had before the weekend.

Claire hung their jackets on the hooks.

Both badges were still pinned on, and the pin on Owen’s had gone loose, so she pressed it flat with her thumb.

Eli’s sneakers sat by the door, the tread worn smooth at the toes from the marble.

The permission slip was still on the counter where she had pressed it three weeks ago.