And I thought about that call. The unknown number. The word stable. The empty parking space where my car should’ve been. The way my family’s story had tried to swallow mine, like it always had.
Only this time, the story wasn’t just about me.
This time, it was about Lucy.
And this time, I chose her.
If anyone asks me now whether I went too far, I think of Lucy in that locked car, pressing her small hands against the glass, waiting for people who decided a child’s fear was a fair price for their fun.
And then I think of Lucy months later, asleep in her bed, safe enough to dream.
No.
I didn’t go too far.
I finally went far enough.
THE END.
