She stepped barefoot through the doorway and onto the porch and into the snap of the morning air, down from the porch and onto the scratchy concrete sidewalk, off the sidewalk and onto the cold, wet grass.
Somewhere behind her, he was opening drawers and lifting up stacks of unopened mail. "Do you have the keys? Where'd she keep the keys?"
"Don't know." There was grass poking up from between her toes. She bent down to run her open palm across the tips of a once familiar lawn gone too long uncut; she laid down and let it envelop her.