Someone had built a new privacy fence two houses down.
Then Daniel saw his own house.
And something felt wrong immediately.
The porch railing was no longer white.
It had been painted dark gray.
The flower beds were cleaner than Emily ever kept them.
There was a small red bicycle lying on the lawn.
Daniel slowed the truck.
A bicycle.
He stared at it.
Maybe it belonged to a neighbor.
There were children all over the neighborhood.
He parked at the curb instead of pulling into the driveway.
A silver SUV occupied his usual spot.
Daniel did not recognize it.
He sat behind the wheel for several seconds.
His heartbeat changed.
Not fear.
Not yet.
Something quieter.
Something instinctive.
The same internal alarm that had saved him more than once overseas.
Look again.
Notice what does not belong.
There was a basketball near the garage.
A child's yellow raincoat hung from a hook near the side door.
Someone had taped a paper snowflake inside the living room window.
Daniel slowly opened the truck door.
His boots touched the pavement.
The cold air smelled like wet leaves and chimney smoke.
He grabbed the flowers.
He left the duffel bag.
As he walked up the driveway, he noticed a chalk drawing on the concrete.
Three stick figures.
One tall.
One medium-sized.
One small.
A crooked heart surrounded all three.
Daniel stopped.
Underneath it, written in large uneven letters, was one word.
FAMILY.
He stared long enough for the rain beginning to fall to darken the shoulders of his uniform.
Then he forced himself forward.
The key was still on his ring.
For some reason, he didn't use it.
He knocked.
Once.
Twice.
He heard movement inside.
Small feet running across hardwood.
A voice called from somewhere deeper in the house.
"Don't open it unless Mommy says!"
The door opened anyway.
Daniel forgot how to breathe.
A little boy stood in front of him.
Maybe six years old.
Maybe seven.
He had warm brown skin, tight black curls, and enormous dark eyes.
He wore dinosaur pajamas even though it was nearly noon.
One sock was blue.
The other was green.
He stared up at Daniel's uniform, then at the flowers.
Daniel stared back.
For three long seconds, neither moved.
Then the boy frowned.
"Who are you?"
Daniel felt the world tilt.
Behind the child, the house looked different.
A school backpack hung by the stairs.
Children's drawings covered the refrigerator.
A pair of tiny sneakers sat beside shoes Daniel recognized as Emily's.
His mouth went dry.