Tommy knew exactly when I was leaving. The night before my trip, he came over, hugged me, checked whether I had packed everything, and told me to enjoy myself.
At the time, I thought he was being thoughtful.
Now I wondered whether he had actually been studying the rooms.
My ten o’clock flight was canceled because of a mechanical problem. The airline offered me another flight the following morning, but I decided to go home instead.
Thirty minutes later, my taxi turned onto my street.
That was when I saw the moving truck.
I walked past Tommy and climbed inside before either of them could stop me.
My grandmother’s wooden chest was there.
James’s anniversary lamp.
Paintings.
Books.
Blankets.
Furniture.
Then I saw my mother’s old music box wedged carefully between two cardboard boxes.
Something inside me broke.
Tommy climbed into the truck behind me.
“Mom…”
