When I stepped into his room, Toby seemed to be asleep under his blankets. I folded the shirt and set it on the chair beside his bed, and then I stood there longer than I needed to, listening to him breathe.

I was exhausted, and sick with worry about the next month’s rent, and prouder than I could say that I’d brought home something that would make him happy.

I smiled to myself in the dark. Then I cried.

What I didn’t know was that Toby had been awake the whole time.

Part 4 — A Voice from the Table

Back in the cold courtroom, Benedict Welch kept building his case.

“This isn’t about someone’s financial class, Your Honor. It’s an assessment of consistency. Mr. Davenport can offer a private bedroom, reliable transportation, structured activities, and a stable home.”