It was that I let myself keep seeing, without softening it, without looking away, without doing the exhausting inner work of making them better than they were.

I let the clear picture stay clear.

And a clear picture, held steady and not flinched from, turns out to be the beginning of every act of courage that follows it.

Chapter 12 — The Grey Folder

Richard Vance walked into my hospital room ten minutes later, carrying a thick grey folder, and one look at his face told me the ground had shifted.

“We have several developments, Camila,” he said.