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much of it left. So it will be up to you what you want to do with it. This is all they retrieved from inside.” He hands me the envelope.
    It’s marked with only their last name and case number. They’ve become only a statistic now. “Thanks.”
    I hurry back to the taxi before my bill gets any higher. As I drive home in the backseat, I open the envelope, peering inside. You can tell a lot by a person from how and what they keep in their car.
    I slowly begin to pull out one thing at a time: my mom’s rosary, she always kept one in the glove compartment; a santo , Saint Michael, the saint of protection, which always hung on the mirror; and their phones. Guilty I didn’t answer when she called earlier I push them back inside.
    Looking outside the backseat window, I focus on the passing cars and clouds. It’s comforting to see how the neighborhood hasn’t changed one bit. Families have started fixing up their homes, but they still hold onto their charm. The family on the corner painted their house bright orange and pink—gosh scream it at us why don’t you.
    The taxi stops outside my house, and I pay him a huge chunk of change. Gathering my bags and their envelope, I take my time walking up the porch. The scent of her roses blooming in the autumn wind takes me back to my childhood. I sit on the porch steps. The blush of pink off the roses looks haunting now in the front yard. Mom always did love her garden the best. The rich colors and size of her flowers really showed how they soaked up all her love.
    Leaning over to straighten the garden gnome, I grab my bags and unlock the door.
    I drop my bags by the door, then collapse into cushions on the couch. The house used to have small rooms throughout, but now that’s all changed.
    Dad kept bugging me to come down to see the house. The walls of the living room and main bedroom were torn down, so now the living room feels more open and alone all at the same time. I sink further into the couch; maybe I can fall through and escape to imagination land. I laugh at the thought and my laughter echoes through the empty room.
    I stand up to pay tribute to Mom’s altar. I touch the crucifix she has on her altar. It’s a new plaster creation with his face imprinted in the center. I remember the day she called me to tell me she won it in a game of lotería . She was so excited; because everyone was jealous, she had a new sacred piece. It was as if the pope had touched it; it was so sacred to her.
    I kneel down in front of the cross, lighting a candle for protection or whatever I’m supposed to do now—I don’t know why I feel the need. My brothers and I aren’t religious. I think it skipped us growing up, but at the same time, it’s always there. A warm presence following me, watching over me.
    My phone rings, snapping me out of my trance. “Hello.”
    “Hey, I’m in between meetings right now, so I don’t have much time. But I wanted to see if you’re okay. Did you pick up the twins already?” Charlie asks in hushed tones.
    “Oh no!” I forgot about the boys still being at school. I look at the time. “I was running behind, but I’m on my way now.” I jump up in front of the altar to grab my car keys. Mom thought she was always so clever hiding them at the top, behind la Virgen , but I knew. I always knew. I smile at the thought of a warm memory of her. “I’ll call you when we’re settled.”
    “Okay, be safe,” Charlie hangs up. I know he’s probably swamped with meetings all day, but he still calls to check on me. He’s such a good friend.
    It takes me awhile to get my beat-up car started, but the engine finally turns over. I drive my beat-up Corolla to school, blasting Incubus in my poorly kept-up radio.
    Man, I forgot how much my school looks like a prison. When they were building the school, did they stop and think. “Windows are so overrated, let’s do brick, brick, and more brick…and one window,” because if they did, they totally nailed it.
    I