The metal coffee machine hummed loudly as I fed two dollar bills and a quarter into the lit bill slot for a cold paper cup of dark coffee that cost two dollars and twenty-five cents.

The paper cup dropped into the metal holder with a heavy thud, followed by a dark stream of liquid that smelled like scorched grain.

I picked up the cup and took it to a stiff vinyl chair facing the tall window that overlooked Maple Lane.

My watch ticked over to seven fifteen.

I took my cell phone out of my jacket pocket and tapped the black screen to open the family group chat.

There were no missed calls and no unread texts in our direct thread.