The words seemed to belong to someone else.

I had spent a lifetime making difficult decisions without hesitation, but saying those seven ordinary words left me trembling.

The physician’s assistant introduced herself as Nina.

She examined my bruises gently, asked whether I had dizziness or difficulty breathing, and arranged imaging because of the pain along my ribs.

Nothing was broken, but the bruising was extensive.

She asked whether I had somewhere safe to stay.

I told her about my own house, its security gate, and Ortega.