“The child is six and very confused,” my mother told the paramedic, her voice hard and steady.

“She was sitting in the formal dining room thirty feet away.”

Dan gently lifted Emma off the tile, wrapping her small body in a yellow wool blanket from his bag.

Emma’s head lay against his shoulder, her eyes still closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

“We’re ready to transport,” Dan said to me.

“You can ride up front or in the back with us.”

“In the back with her,” I said.