He had lost weight.

He was driving a ten-year-old compact car, and working two jobs to cover his living expenses and his restitution payments.

“I thought you’d always be there, Mari,” he said, staring at his hands across the settlement table.

“I know you did,” I replied.

“And that was the mistake.” He rubbed his eyes.

“I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me.” “It wasn’t a mistake, Daniel,” I said.

“A mistake is a thing you do once, by accident.