“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

I dialed it a second time, as though the machine might be in a better mood.

Same three sentences.

No forwarding number.

Inside, the store was cold enough to raise bumps on my arms.

I bought a gallon of milk we already had, and then, in the cereal aisle, the kind Ethan used to eat dry out of the box, standing at the counter with his fingers in it.

At the register the girl turned the box over, looking for the barcode.