I walked to the window and parted the blinds.

The street below was quiet, lit only by the yellow glow of the sodium streetlights.

A black sedan sat idling near the corner of Damon Avenue, its exhaust rising in pale plumes into the cold night air.

As I watched, the headlights flickered once, then the car pulled slowly away from the curb.

I did not sleep that night.

I sat at the kitchen table with a cup of black coffee that grew cold before I could drink it.

At six in the morning, the radiator clanked to life, sending a hiss of steam into the small room.

The boys woke up hungry and loud, oblivious to the shadow hanging over our apartment.

“Mom, Toby took my blue sneaker,” Sam yelled from the bedroom.

“I didn’t take it, it was under the bed!” Toby shouted back.

I forced a smile onto my face and walked into their room.

“Let’s get dressed, guys,” I said, my voice steady by sheer force of will. “We have a big day.”

I made them oatmeal and packed their lunches.