This morning, she bolted upstairs to brush her teeth, then returned to the kitchen wearing a blue-flowered dress with rainbow fairy wings and pink sequined shoes. She handed him some pink gauzy hair thing, and requested a ponytail. He did his best.

Jason wrote the grocery list, then made an attempt at general hygiene. Shaving his beard revealed an ugly bruise. Combing back his hair emphasized the shiner on his eye. No doubt about it, he looked like hell. Or more precisely, like an ax murderer. Third cheerful thought for the day.

He gave up on grooming and returned downstairs, where Ree was waiting eagerly by the front door, yellow daffodil purse in hand.

“You remember the reporters?” he asked her. “The people with cameras and microphones gathered across the street?”

Ree nodded solemnly.

“Well, they’re still there, honey. And when we open that door, they’re probably going to start shouting a ton of questions and taking pictures. They’re just trying to do their job, okay? They’re gonna be all crazy-like. And you and I are going to calmly walk to our car, and drive to the grocery store. Okay?”

“It’s okay, Daddy. I saw them when I went upstairs. That’s why I put on my fairy wings. So if they yell too much, I can fly right over them.”

“You are a very smart girl,” he told her, and then, because there was no time like the present, he opened the front door.

The screaming started with the first glimpse of his shoe.

“Jason, Jason, any news of Sandy?”

“Will you be talking to the police today?”

“When can we expect a formal briefing?”

He ushered Ree out, keeping her close to his side as he closed the door behind them, locking it. His hands were shaking. He tried to keep his movements slow and measured. No rush, no guilty sprints. Grieving husband, taking his little girl to purchase badly needed milk and bread.

“Will you be assisting with the search efforts, Jason? How many volunteers have turned out to find Sandy?”

“Love your wings, honey! Are you an angel?”

That comment caught his attention, made him look up sharply. He was resigned to them shouting at him, but he didn’t want the pack of vultures going after Ree.

“Daddy?” his daughter whispered beside him, and he looked down to see the anxiety scribbled across her face.

“We’re going to the car, we’re driving to the grocery store,” he repeated levelly “We’re okay, Ree. They’re the ones behaving badly, not us.”