I sat down, and my legs finally gave out, shaking violently.

The person they’d been holding up all morning weighed six ounces and had my chin.

I had just paid for her permanent safety with the only sentence I’d ever wanted to hear.

In the hallway outside, my family—the elected one, the one that had voted with its presence—closed tightly around me.

My father hugged me first.

I realized, with my face pressed against his church suit, that I couldn’t recall the last time he’d initiated physical contact.