“You don’t order me around anymore, Mom,” I said.

I picked up the heavy box, the handle cold in my hand.

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch.

“I’m going to finish this,” I said.

I turned away from her and began walking down the hallway toward the front door.

“If you leave with those papers, don’t bother coming back!” she screamed after me.

Her voice echoed off the high walls of the empty hallway, but I didn’t stop.

I opened the front door, stepping out into the cold morning air.

The sun was just beginning to rise over the tops of the suburban houses, casting long, pale shadows across the pavement.

I walked down the driveway to my SUV, my chest tight and my breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

I opened the back door, slid the metal box onto the floorboards, and covered it with the heavy blanket.

As I climbed into the driver’s seat, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out and looked at the screen.