“It was a great driving range to hit the golf balls,” said Mike, and with that the bus went through the fence and turned right and the Ericksons were gone, except for a few things they’d left behind. A deck chair, a fan, a mirror, a mop. All of this was noticed by a FEMA inspector who came later that day. “Okey-doke,” he said. “I’ve seen a lot worse.” The bolt didn’t work, so he closed the front door and pronounced it well enough. “We’re done,” he said, and hours later, as night fell, Trailer 83 was a shadow in a dark corner of an empty lot. There was nothing to break the silence when midnight came and then left and the park was officially closed. The living program was over. FEMA had fulfilled its obligations to the displaced.