Beside her, the girl in pink began to cry without making much sound.

Tears slid down her cheeks while she kept looking at the narrow strip of neighboring driveway visible past my shoulder.

Every shade next door was drawn.

I moved so my body screened the girls from that house.

I did not lower the lid onto them again.

I wanted them out of the container, where I could see whether they were hurt and where they could breathe without fear of being shut in.

“Okay,” I said.