The land got very strange. Gray hills bulged from the earth in such a way that their middles looked wider than their bases. “It’s like Dr. Seuss,” I overheard Kylie say. Caroline sketched in her notebook. I stared out the window at the weird hills and told myself that we lived in San Francisco, in a house on Washington Street that I’d bought for a million in cash six years ago, that our house existed right now, the burglar alarm on, automatic sprinklers set to keep the garden alive. It’s all still there, I thought. Waiting. But I didn’t believe it.