My favorite blue vase was packed between Derek’s socks.
My grandmother’s quilt had been spread over Carol and Martin’s bed.
My office chair had been moved into the garage.
A plastic bin labeled “Amanda—donate?” sat near the hallway closet.
I stared at it until my vision blurred.
Not because of the objects. Objects could be replaced. But the label told me everything.
They had not moved in as guests.
They had moved in as inheritors.
At some point, my phone began buzzing. Then buzzing again. Then again.
Aunt Linda.
Cousin Rachel.
Uncle Joe.
Unknown number.
Family group chat.
I ignored them all.
Melissa didn’t.
As Officer Ruiz watched her carry a laundry basket toward the front door, she balanced her phone between her shoulder and ear, voice trembling with outrage.
“Yes, Aunt Linda, she called the cops. On Mom. On all of us. She’s making Derek’s parents homeless.”
