I was chopping vegetables when my four-year-old daughter

”

Diane’s eyes dart to the kitchen.

To the sink.

There is water running.

I had not noticed.

The drain gurgles.

A stack of damp papers sits beside it, ink bleeding at the edges.

I lunge before I think.

Diane moves too.

She throws the shoebox toward the sink, but Andrew catches it against his chest. The lid flies off.

Papers spill across the floor.

Photos.

Receipts.continue reading …