It was a cold afternoon, the kind where the light fades early and the air smells faintly of woodsmoke. I was halfway through folding laundry when I heard the knock.
Firm. Too firm for a stranger.

When I opened the door, a woman stood there — maybe mid-thirties, dark hair swept back like she’d been in a hurry. One arm was crossed tightly over her chest. The other rested on the shoulder of a boy standing close to her side. He clung to her coat like it was the only solid thing in the world.

Continues…