Mel opens the door, umbrella stupidily still in his grip. It was a habit that annoyed her, carrying it to the mud room before the back porch. The irony was of course that when they bought the house she insisted on the laundry room that was originally there be converted into one. “Just imagine,” she would argue, “the children dropping off their golashes and raincoats there and their soft socked feet prisitne while they scattered about.” Slowly he descended the staircase.
Where were the children?