The metal was warm against my palm.

That thermos had traveled from her kitchen to the ICU and back, and now it was coming home with us.

We loaded Abigail’s bag into the trunk.

Elena closed it and stood with her hand on the lid.

“I put a casserole in your freezer,” she said.

“And I left a key under the mat until you get a spare made.”

Abigail climbed into the back seat and buckled herself in.