Daniel stopped speaking.
The silence on the line lasted only a second, but it felt like an answer.
“I’m coming back as soon as I can,” he said.
“Stay with her.”
“They’re asking questions. I need to tell them exactly what happened.”
I looked at the jar on the floor.
“He watched her put it on.”
“I know.”
“No, Daniel. He told her to.”
His voice broke when he answered.
“I know.”
The call ended.
I remained on the floor because I did not trust my legs.
The tree lights kept blinking across the silver paper.
At some point, the morning light shifted across the front window.
The coffee in Richard’s mug sat untouched on the side table.
Hours passed in fragments.
I answered a call from Daniel.
I repeated the same facts.
I took another photograph from farther back so the position of the box, the ribbon, the jar, and the couch could be seen together.
