I reached out and picked up the silver keychain from the desk, slipping it into my coat pocket.
“We will see what the court says,” I said.
“The court will say what my lawyers tell them to say,” Adrian said.
He reached down, picked up his leather briefcase from the chair, and pulled the top flap down.
The sound of his leather briefcase snapping shut as he walks out the door.
The kitchen felt too large after the front door clicked shut. I stood by the stove, my hand still resting on the wooden spoon in the pot of potato soup. The steam rose into my face, warm and thick, but it did not clear the chill that had settled in the room.
Leo and Toby sat at the laminate table, their schoolbooks open but untouched. They were fourteen, old enough to notice the gaps in the house but young enough to wait for me to explain them.
“Why is Dad’s closet empty?” Toby asked, holding his spoon halfway to his mouth.
