“Wyatt?”

The understanding arrived all at once and took the air out of me more completely than the poison had.

The smooth wood.

The airless dark.

The stiff formal jackets I could feel someone had dressed my sons in.

I did not let myself scream, though every animal in me wanted to, because I already knew — before I had finished knowing anything else — that screaming would spend air we did not have.

We were in a box.