MY MOTHER-IN-LAW BLOCKED THE DOORWAY OF MY NEW APARTMENT AND SCREAMED THAT HER SON HAD BOUGHT IT FOR HER, ORDERING ME TO LEAVE. SHE CALLED ME TRASH—SO I TOOK THE TRASH OUT.

My grandmother’s mug.

My furniture rearranged.

My belongings boxed up and shoved into closets.

Even my bedroom had been altered.

Lorraine’s perfume lingered everywhere.

Like an invasion.

I opened windows.

Turned on fans.

Started gathering evidence.

Photographs.