Justin

As I enter the Dunns’ home, I attempt to stop their screen door from slamming. The damn thing has done it for thirty years. I’m not sure why I think I can stop it now or why I care. Turning, I see Janet Dunn. “Hi,” I say, as the door slams. “Sorry.” My stomach rumbles at the delicious aroma filling this kitchen.

Janet waves her hand. “Come on in, Justin. That old door is better than any alarm system. If I didn’t ...