Elena tapped her pen once against the glass door frame between us.

“She only cares about the sound of your voice through that plastic wall,” Elena said.

“She needs her mother right here, standing guard.”

I looked past Elena’s shoulder, through the heavy glass, at the tiny plastic box in the middle of the quiet room.

Inside, the small green light on the oxygen sensor pulsed steady and slow in the dim light.

I took a long, shaky breath, drawing the cold, sanitizer-scented air deep into my lungs.