steady, solemn beat filling the quiet rooms.
Arthur and Wendy spent their ten allotted minutes loading the empty cardboard boxes back into their SUV.
My father’s hands shook so violently he dropped a set of packing tape rolls onto the gravel, while my mother kept her eyes fixed on the driveway, terrified the promised sheriff’s cruiser would arrive before they could leave.
They didn’t say goodbye.
They didn’t ask where Grandma would sleep that night.
They simply closed the trunk, climbed into the front seats, and drove down the long
