fell beneath the streetlights.
Dylan carried my boxes out, but instead of putting them in my car, he deliberately placed them beside the overflowing trash cans.
Mom remained under the porch roof.
“Don’t be dramatic, Mara. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
I reached for a box.
Then I heard a phone camera click.
Dylan had stepped back to photograph my belongings in the rain.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
His thumbs were already moving.
Less than a minute later, my phone buzzed.
I checked the notification.
