“Bye.”
Marcus gave me a brief nod.
Then led his children inside.
No smile.
No expression.
That evening, Owen found me staring through our kitchen window.
“You’re doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Judging him.”
I folded my arms.
“The whole neighborhood is judging him.”
“And maybe everyone is wrong.”
“Those kids wake up at five every morning.”
Owen looked toward the neighboring house.
“Or maybe we’re seeing five minutes of a twenty-four-hour day.”
I wanted him to be right.
Then something happened that made Marcus’s behavior feel even more unsettling.
The Ambulance
One Tuesday afternoon, an ambulance pulled into Marcus’s driveway.
Every child walked calmly onto the front lawn.
