When I finish, the room doesn’t move.

Judge Harmon takes off his reading glasses.

He does it slowly, and he sets them down on the papers in front of him, and I see that his eyes have filled.

He is not performing it; he looks like a man who has signed too many of the other kind of order, the practical kind, and has wondered every time where those children ended up.

He looks past me, for a long moment, at the five children through the glass.