One afternoon, my phone rang. My mother's name appeared on the screen.
"I made too much ziti in the oven. Do you want me to come by and bring some more?"
I hesitated, looking at the clock. "Of course, Mum. That would be nice. Rowan should be home too."
She seemed pleased. "Good. I'll also bring the cookies you like."
Mom's name appeared on the screen.
That day, I left work early and went home. The apartment was quiet, no music, no television, not even the sound of Rowan's wheels sliding on the parquet floor. I put the groceries on the counter and listened.
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