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Walt looked over Becca's shoulder. Her strokes were firm, her shading detailed, adding depth and contrast that allowed her drawing to pop from the page. She had talent, still he frowned when he examined her drawing, which depicted a tree trunk with rough bark. A woman's face peered from the tree, eyes wide. A hand extended from outside the frame and covered her mouth, as if to muffle a scream.

Later, Walt and Gaby sat on the swing, a gentle breeze brushing through the trees. Though the low-hanging clouds had dissipated, the desert sky remained overcast, gray with scattered puffs of white and the occasional brilliant blue that shown through the breaks, only to quickly disappear behind the shifting clouds. They sipped strong coffee from white mugs and listened to the creak of the swing c……