"Happy birthday, Daddy!" Lily said, holding the brown paper package out with both hands, her whole small body leaning forward with anticipation. "I made it myself. All week. Mommy doesn't even know what it is!" Thomas reached for it, already smiling, already reaching for the reading glasses in his shirt pocket so he could see whatever careful, crayon-bright thing his daughter had made him. He never got the chance. Diane's hand shot out and intercepted the gift before it reached him, her fingers closing around the brown paper with a swiftness that made Lily's outstretched hands hang empty and confused in the air between them. "Diane—" Thomas started. "It's probably just another mess," Diane said, already turning toward the kitchen, already dismissing six days of her daughter's careful work before she'd even unwrapped it. "You know how she is with the crayons. Half of it ends up on the walls." "Mommy, wait—" Lily's voice cracked with the first edge of panic, small feet already moving to follow her mother into the kitchen. But Diane didn't wait. In one swift, careless motion, she dropped the wrapped gift into the kitchen trash can, the metallic lid clanging shut over it as though it were nothing more than a piece of junk mail.