“Not if a judge says otherwise.

I can only write down what I see.”

He clipped the pen to his coat and left.

I stayed with Abigail’s hand in mine.

At eleven forty they wheeled her through the double doors of radiology.

I followed as far as the yellow line, then sat in the corridor with my duffel between my feet.

Marisol Herrera came down the hall ten minutes later with a clipboard against her chest.

She smoothed the top page with her thumb before she sat down beside me.