She looked frail, exhausted, and ten years older than the woman who had handed me an empty plate a month before.

Paula looked at me from across the room.

“Do you want security to escort her out?” I paused for a moment.

“No,” I said.

“Let her in.”

Theresa walked into my office slowly and sat down across from my desk, and for the first time since I had known her, she did not open her mouth to issue a demand or a passive-aggressive insult.

“Mariana,” she said softly.