A Silver Photo Frame on Our Porch Ended My Fifteen Year Blind Spot
“We had to work hard to get where we are,” I added, turning to the executive summary. “Your focus on the home and my focus on the firm is what kept us aligned.”
I checked my wristwatch.
Anna placed the folded sheet on top of the pile, her hands flattening the fabric with slow, deliberate pressure. She did not answer.
The autumn breeze carried the sharp scent of damp soil and decaying oak leaves when I pulled into the driveway the next afternoon. I grabbed my briefcase from the passenger seat of the Sienna, noting the scrape on the garage door frame that needed painting.
As I climbed the steps to the front porch, my foot nearly brushed against a large, square package sitting squarely on the welcome mat. It was wrapped in heavy brown paper and sealed with reinforced packing tape.
The return address was printed in clean, black serif font: The University Scientific Society, Department of Molecular Biology.
I picked it up, surprised by its solid, unexpected weight.
I carried the heavy cardboard box inside, placing it on the kitchen table where the label caught the dim autumn light.
