(Sean's POV)
I walk through the front door and shrug off my coat.
My arm extends to the right. The coat hanging in the air for a second, waiting.
"Rebecca."
Nothing.
My arm hangs there. The coat dangling from my fingers. It takes me three full seconds to realize no one is going to take it.
I hang it on the hook myself. Next to Jack's jacket. The third hook empty. My hand pauses on it, then I walk away, shrugging off the feeling.
The house is quiet. Not the normal kind of quiet — the kind that happens when Jack is asleep and the dishwasher is running and Rebecca is reading on the couch with her feet tucked under her. That quiet has a shape to it. A warmth.
This is a different quiet. This is the quiet of nothing happening. No pots on the stove. No water running. No footsteps overhead
