Chapter 4

The next day, a gentle knock on my door revealed Isaac holding a cloth-covered basket.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he said, "but I made sourdough this morning and thought you might like some. I always make too much for just one person."

The bread was still warm, the scent of it making my mouth water. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten something that wasn't from the freezer or a takeout container.

"This is incredibly kind of you," I said, accepting the basket. "Would you like to come in? I just made tea."

Our conversations became a bright…