Mark never received a key to the rental.
He never asked.
On his scheduled evenings, he knocked.
Emily noticed.
Six months earlier, he would have assumed he could enter.
Now he waited.
One evening she opened the door and found him holding three tiny pumpkin costumes.
Emily stared.
“No.”
“They were on sale.”
“No.”
“Grace is a pumpkin.”
“She is not.”
“Look at her. Spiritually, she is clearly a pumpkin.”
Emily tried not to laugh.
Mark lifted another costume.
“Lily also appears to be a pumpkin.”
“And Faith?”
“More complicated.”
He revealed a third identical costume.
Emily laughed so hard she had to hold the doorframe.
For a moment, neither of them thought about the hospital.
Or Madison.
Or the apartment.
They were simply two exhausted parents standing on a porch arguing about pumpkins.
That night, after the girls were asleep, Mark prepared to leave.
Emily stood near the door.
