I had raised a man who made monstrous choices, and who might, one decision at a time, choose again.

Raymond had been right about one thing.

Some people grow into cruelty.

But he hadn’t lived to see that some of them grow out of it, late, and at great cost, and only after someone refuses to cushion the fall.

I had spent sixty-eight years building things for other people to stand on.

It turned out the hardest thing I ever built was a gate.

I’m glad I kept it closed.

I’m gladder still that I left it unlocked.

The End.