At one point, she tapped my name badge, studied it carefully, and said—completely serious—
“You’re the good one.”
I had to turn away for a second after that.
Later, a caseworker pulled me aside. She was kind, but exhausted in that way people get when they’ve delivered bad news too many times.
“She’ll go into temporary placement,” she said. “No next of kin. We’ll figure something out.”
I heard myself speak before I’d even decided.
“Can I take her tonight? Just until you figure it out.”
She frowned. “You’re single. You work rotating shifts. You’re young.”
“I know,” I said. “But I can’t let her be carried off by strangers tonight.”
