Twelve Months Later, Ethan Came Back With a Sleeping Newborn and a Broken Suitcase

Richard sat at the head of the table, adjusted his cuffs, and cut into his meat.

We ate in silence for a few minutes while the jazz trumpet played quietly in the background.

The steak was perfectly cooked, charred on the outside and pink in the middle, but it tasted like dry cardboard in my mouth.

Richard wiped his lips with his linen napkin and set it down.

He reached down to the floor next to his chair and picked up his leather briefcase.

The brass locks clicked sharply in the quiet room.