She had spent eighteen months imagining that if she ever learned the truth about Gabriel she would want to burn something down.

The truth, when it came, did not make her want to burn anything.

It made her want to go home and teach her son to be unafraid of the sky.

She had expected, if this day ever came, to feel that the scales had been balanced, that some cosmic debt had been paid when the man responsible was finally caught.

But the scales did not balance, and she came to understand that they never would, that this was not a flaw in the justice she had received but the actual nature of the thing.