So I tell her. A woman jogs by with a bobbing blond ponytail and neon running sneakers. Lawn sprinklers catch the early sun and cast tiny, refracted rainbows across manicured grass. A slouchy pre-teen waits alone at a bus stop, hunched over his phone with massive headphones clamped to his ears, completely oblivious to the world.
It’s the beautiful, colorful mundanity of it all that makes me happy, against all odds. When the world is this calm and predictable, I can almost believe that there’s a place in it for Eliana, our child, and me to all be safe and happy together.
Of course, that’s when I notice the dogwalker.
He’s male, in his mid-forties, receding hairline, nondescript windbreaker, holding a leash attached to a beagle that’s a bit too well-behaved for my liking. I clock him a ha
