Luis laughed.
For the first time in twenty-four hours, the sound of another person laughing near me felt strangely comforting.
I walked him through the house.
“The blue sofa. Both armchairs. The television in the family room. The dining table and six chairs.”
Luis glanced toward the kitchen.
“The refrigerator?”
I hesitated.
It was mine.
I had paid nearly four thousand dollars for it because Rebecca had wanted the model with two freezer drawers and an interior water dispenser.
But there were groceries inside.
Food for the children when they came home.
“Leave it.”
Luis looked at my list.
“You have it marked.”
“I changed my mind.”
The washer and dryer stayed too.
So did the guest beds.
I realized, as we walked from room to room, that ownership and belonging were not always the same thing.
