THE house was quiet at night, but she still wasn't able to sleep. Both boys were asleep, Hazel's light was off, and the city outside had settled into its low nighttime hum. Amelia sat at the kitchen table in her robe with a cup of tea she had made twenty minutes ago and hadn't touched, staring at nothing in particular.
She had come home from work early, kissed the boys when they came back from school, sat through homework supervision with Gaddiel, listened to Gabriel tell a very long story about something that happened at break time, and did all of it with the careful, present attention she always gave them. Because they didn't understand why her presence felt heavy around them today. They were seven years old and they needed their mother present, not a haunted and broken woman.
But now
