Her eyes filled.

That was the sentence she had needed all night.

Not because she believed she deserved what happened, but because children are strange little miracles.

They will blame themselves for storms, divorces, empty chairs, slammed doors, and grown men’s cruelty if nobody tells them not to.

She fell asleep twenty minutes later, one hand wrapped around a stuffed plush cat Nina somehow produced from a supply closet.

In the kitchen, Vance poured coffee none of us wanted.