You shouldn’t have to worry about that before you worry about yourself.”

A physician explained that my body temperature had fallen to a dangerous level and I would remain under observation.

My hands tingled as warmth returned.

The backs of my ankles were rubbed raw.

I had a headache that made the ceiling lights feel too bright, but I was alive.

I could speak.

I could remember enough to tell a social worker that I’d been locked outside, asked for a coat, and been refused.

“Do you feel safe returning home?” she asked.