You pull up to the duplex Sandra lives in, a little house on Deleno Drive in Kirkwood, about twenty minutes later. The street lights are already turning on, though there is another good thirty minutes of evening light left in the day. People are already home, and there isn't much traffic; most driveways are full at this point in the day, and several cars are parked in the street among scattered no parking signs. At the end of the other side of the street, just as Michelle said, is the Bessie Branham Recreation Center. There are some kids playing basketball on a well kept court lit by bright lights and some others loitering around in the grass. You can hear a lawnmower in the distance running steadily, and an ambulance siren in the far distance. This is suburbia nestled in the city.
Sandra's driveway itself is empty, and the shutters are closed. It seems lonely compared to the houses nearby full of cars with lights and shadows coming through the windows. Even its front porch light is off. On the lawn are several days worth of newspapers, haphazardly tossed toward the driveway with little regard for aim.