NORA.

“Read it before you get in.”

Griffin’s voice came from the hallway while I was still holding my shampoo. The bathroom door was half open. A sticky note sat at eye level in his block handwriting.

Guest towel policy.

She uses the one I hung up.

No clean ones.

I laughed because that was the polite thing to do when your mother’s husband posted a joke on a door like we were still twelve and sharing camp cabins.

“Very funny.”

“I did not write it to be funny.”

He was already gone when I looked out. Mom was downstairs on a call. The house was their house. I was...