Halvorsen watering the plants on her porch.
She looked toward me.
“Quiet today,” she said.
I stopped in my driveway.
For a second, the words brought back the sound of that front door opening at 11:20 in the morning and the sight of those shoes crossing my bedroom floor.
Then I looked at my house.
New locks.
Closed windows.
Empty rooms waiting exactly as I had left them.
“Good,” I said.
Mrs.
Halvorsen nodded once and returned to her plants.
I went inside.
The house was silent.
This time, silence didn’t feel like something holding its breath.
It felt like mine again.
