“I know a fair amount of it.”

We stood there. The vending machine cycled.

“Can I tell you something?” I said. “You may not want it.”

“Go on.”

“For eleven days last autumn I was a stranger holding somebody else’s baby, and I loved her the whole time and I had no right to her at all. I know exactly the shape of what you’re standing in.

It’s not the same. But I know the shape.”