I cried in my husband’s arms at the airport as he boarded what he claimed was a two-year work assignment in Zurich. – FooD Hacks

The photograph was not of Lucas.

That was the first thing my mind registered, and for one strange second, relief flickered through me.

Then I looked closer.

It was a picture of our house.

Our front door.

Our porch.

Taken from across the street, slightly angled, as though whoever had taken it had been sitting in a parked car under the maple tree near Mrs. Bellamy’s mailbox.

My breath caught.