My sister came home without my five-year-old daughter and laughed when she told me she had forgotten her at the store.
My mother told me not to overreact.
I did not scream.
I grabbed my keys.
At 6:18 that evening, Megan dropped my keys into the ceramic bowl beside Mom’s front door as casually as if she had just come back from picking up milk.
She was still looking at her phone, smiling at something on the screen.
Mom was in the living room adjusting the throw pillows before her birthday dinner, and I was carrying plates toward the dining room when I noticed something that should have been obvious the second Megan walked in.
Lily was not with her.
I looked past Megan toward the driveway.
No pink sweater.
No small backpack.
No five-year-old voice asking whether she could have dessert before dinner.
I asked, “Where’s Lily?”
Megan finally looked up from her phone.
