My bag was still by the closet door.

The weather strip on the front door hummed in the wind.

Ethan picked up the photograph and held it out to me.

“Look at the corner,” he said.

At the edge of the picture, behind Richard, a blue canvas duffel bag sat on a kitchen chair.

I had bought that bag for Ethan when he started high school.

His initials were on the strap in black marker.

I took the photograph.