I slid the drawer shut with a faint, hollow thud. Angelo sighed but did not stir. Feeling the chill creep up through my bare feet, I listened to the noises our house makes at night: The hum of the air conditioner, the drip of the bathroom faucet, and, in the kitchen, the clunk of the automatic ice maker. Then, behind these sounds, I heard something else . . . something that might be my soul.