The Bay Road

Tressa opened the door with her bag still standing behind her, its handles upright as if someone else might take responsibility for them. Elian looked at her first. She was grateful for that, and annoyed by how much she had needed it.

“Come in,” she said.

He stepped into the hall, carrying his own small bag. He put it beside the radiator rather than beside hers. The difference was only a few feet, but she noticed that he had left the question where they had agreed to leave it.

She had put the car keys in her pocket. They pressed against her thigh when she sat on the bench to fasten a shoe. Through the open kitchen door she could see the bread her son had brought, wrapped now in a clean cloth. She had eaten some for breakfast. The ordinary evidence of loving him remained in the house; she…