Or perhaps it was simply the final mistake I would make without understanding what was happening.
At nine thirty that morning, I finished rinsing my coffee cup and glanced at the clock.
I had a dentist appointment at eleven. I needed to stop at the grocery store afterward, and I had promised Olivia that I would call her before her afternoon lecture.
It was an ordinary day.
That detail still amazes me.
Sometimes the moments that divide your life into before and after do not announce themselves with thunder or breaking glass. Sometimes they arrive while you’re thinking about milk, bread, and whether you have enough money in your purse.
I had just reached for my handbag when someone knocked on the front door.
Three sharp knocks.
I walked into the hallway.
“Who is it?”
There was no answer.
I waited, then heard another knock.
When I opened the door, I found a woman standing on my porch.
