Miranda
I was folding laundry when the knock came.
Three steady knocks echoed through the little house, calm and unhurried, carrying none of the urgency that had shattered our lives yesterday.
Even so, every muscle in my body tightened.
Fear didn’t disappear overnight.
It simply became quieter.
Matthew looked up from where he sat at the table pretending to read one of the books that had come with the house. Jake immediately abandoned the collection of wooden blocks he’d been turning into what he insisted was a castle, and Becca lifted her head from the couch where she’d spent most of the morning curled beneath a blanket with a lingering cough that still made my heart stop every time I heard it.
“I’ll get it,” Matthew said.
I nodded, though I found myself wiping suddenly damp palms
