She chose her clothes.

All of them, every day, including combinations that made me physically wince and which I never once commented on.

She chose what went in her lunch, from three options.

She decided who was allowed to hug her, and it was enforced, absolutely, with everybody — with my father, with my friends, with a colleague of mine who said “oh, come on” once and did not get a second chance.

And she was allowed to say no to me, out loud, about anything that was not safety, and I had to take it, and there were about nine occasions in the first year where taking it cost me something real and I took it anyway because Dr.

Park had told me the whole thing lives or dies on whether it is real.