“In February.”

“I know.”

He went up.

She pushed the drawer shut with her hip, washed her hands, and dried them on the towel with the burned corner.

She would open the envelopes Thursday, after the assembly.

Then she turned the deadbolt until it clicked home.

The porch lamp came through the window over the sink and laid a stripe on the floor.

She turned off the kitchen light.

The kitchen felt warm in the evening light.