The light outside was fading fast now. I could hear the old fridge humming in the corner and the clock ticking above the stove, same as always. I didn’t get up to turn on more lights.

I just sat there with my hands on the table, one on the note and one on the license that had my name. The wood felt cool under my wrists where the sun had stopped hitting it.

I thought about that empty shed again, how quiet it got after he drove away. But I stayed right here, looking at what he left me. The lure with the red paint was still hooked on the edge of the box. I didn’t touch it this time.

Bobby had gone to the trouble of getting these made. He had folded that note and tucked it under everything so it would be the last thing I found. I read the words one more time, out loud again, just the last line. “Your half is still yours.” Then I folded the paper back up the way it had been and set it on top of the licenses.

The tackle box sat open in front of me. I didn’t close it. The house stayed quiet while the last bit of daylight slipped away from the window. I kept my hands on the table and didn’t move to put anything away.