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My name, written in careful block letters.

My hands shook as I read it. She’d taken blankets. Sandwiches. And my car keys. She’d gone to the abandoned house across the street.

I didn’t bother waking Hayden. I threw on my coat and ran.

The front door of the old house creaked open easily. Inside, sitting cross-legged on the floor and wrapped in three mismatched blankets, was my daughter. A flashlight lay beside her. A small pile of sandwiches sat neatly stacked.

She looked up at me, eyes shining with pride.