I had spent my early life confusing the two.

Chloe, in her short time, had seen it in me more clearly than I had.

On Fridays, I sometimes drove past the Lantern House on my way home.

I didn’t always go inside.

I had learned that supporting something didn’t mean supervising every breath it took.

The blue door was visible from the street, bright against the brick.

Whenever I passed it, I remembered her note: After that, you may decide what to do.

At last, I believed her.