By the time I pulled into the driveway, the rain had turned colder. A silver sedan I did not recognize was parked behind Liam’s beat-up Honda. Through the front window, I saw my suitcase standing upright beside the door.
I got out slowly, my badge still clipped to my scrub top, my lunch bag hanging from two tired fingers. Luggage
When I opened the door, the smell hit me first.
Pepperoni pizza.
Beer.
My mother’s lemon cleaner.
Then I saw the trash bags.
Three of them. Heavy. Overstuffed. One had split near the bottom, and my gray hospital hoodie was poking through the plastic. My shoes were in a cardboard box beside them. A framed photo of me and my Aunt Evelyn had been placed face down, as if even the picture had been thrown out.
Laughter came from the kitchen.
Liam’s laugh.
