When I got home from a business trip, I found my daughter unconscious by the door…

The key turned in the lock the way it always did—smooth, familiar—like the house itself was exhaling me back into it.

I stepped inside, suitcase rolling behind me, my tie loosened, my brain still half in an airport gate and half in tomorrow’s sales pipeline. The entryway smelled like lemon cleaner and something faintly sweet, like someone had tried to cover a mess with perfume. The porch light from outside spilled across the hardwood in a thin, yellow ribbon.