Twelve Months Later, Ethan Came Back With a Sleeping Newborn and a Broken Suitcase
It stopped an inch short.
The garage door rumbled again.
I hit the drawer with my hip, and it shut.
I grabbed the dust cloth from the hall table and was wiping the desk when his footsteps came down the hall.
Richard stood in the doorway with his suit coat over one arm.
“Dusting?”
“The pollen,” I said.
“It gets on everything.”
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