In its place, a sleek, dark sedan sat in the open garage of the previously vacant house. Your two-year-old son, Megumi, was sound asleep in his car seat, his head lolled to the side, a museum gift bag clutched in his small fist.

You unbuckled him, maneuvering to lift his dead weight while shouldering the diaper bag and gathering the rest of the bags from the passenger seat. It was a precarious, one-armed shuffle toward your front door.

A shadow fell across the path. You looked up.