I set the bowl in front of him.

“You asked for that the morning with the bag, too.”

“I remember.” He poured and stirred.

“Tasted like a normal Tuesday right up until it didn’t.”

The blue canvas duffel hung in the hall closet now, the strap worn through in one place where he had carried it.

I had asked him twice if he wanted it gone.

“Keep it,” he said.

“It got me here.”