I did not break Esme’s femur.

I did not break three of her ribs in September.

I did not look at a leg at half past six in the morning and give a child Tylenol and cancel her grandmother and drive forty-one minutes.

Nothing was lost that I had.

What happened is that I found out what was already there, in a house eleven miles from mine, and the finding out is the part people want to call the damage because it is the part with a date on it.

But there is a thing I got wrong, and it is mine, and it has nothing to do with the conspiracy I built.