MOVINGHe arranged the boxes in a semicircle around the entrance to the door, so that they lay piled on top of each other in stacks of three and four, the levels high but not precarious. He knew it was important to position them by their distributed weight, setting one box slightly off another box, with the heavier cartons on the bottom. He was proud of his balancing act and quite pleased with the orderliness of the stacks. He looked around him: The yard was a graveyard of neatly stacked items.
“How many more?” he called out, directing his question toward the dark well of the house. He mopped the hair off his forehead and swept it back, leaving a wet trail of sweat across his palm. A breeze caught the screen door and flapped it open for one brief instant. Then it closed, gently and without
