I unlocked the door with my key because the keypad made a beep, and I did not want a beep.
The lock turned. I eased the door open and stepped into the dark entryway.
The first thing I noticed was the television.
The living room TV was on low, not loud enough to be entertainment, just loud enough to wash the hallway in a watery blue light. Caleb liked falling asleep to documentaries, especially ones about disasters. Airplane investigations. Shipwrecks. Mountain rescues. He said the narrators relaxed him, all those calm voices explaining how other people’s lives had gone wrong. I used to tease him for it. “Nothing says bedtime like mechanical failure,” I would say, and he would laugh and pull me close.
The second thing I noticed was the perfume.
It was not mine.