Six Pairs of Thick Gray Socks Saved My White House on Elm Street

and I did not stand up to see her to the door.

The latch clicked shut behind her, and the house was completely silent except for the low hum of my old refrigerator in the kitchen.

I picked up the brass key from the table. It felt cold in my hand, a simple piece of metal that had once meant my daughter could come and go as she pleased.

I walked over to continue reading …