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The folding table in the school courtyard wobbled slightly as I set down a tray of mismatched plates. It was one of those late spring

The train ride home had been longer than expected, slowed by a stretch of rain that blurred the windows into soft streaks of gray. Across

The library meeting room had been rearranged into a small circle of folding chairs, each one occupied by someone holding a notebook or a cup

The community center was quieter than usual that afternoon, with only a handful of folding tables set up for the weekend charity fair. I had

The church hall had a way of echoing every small sound—chairs scraping, soft laughter, the clink of teacups. I had signed up to help with

The kitchen window was cracked open just enough to let in a soft breeze that carried the scent of early spring. A young neighbor, Lily,