back as I stepped into the freezing morning.
The warmth never reached the bench.
Nothing reached it.
Chloe was curled beneath a broken streetlamp without a coat.
For one second, my mind refused to recognize her.
Instead, it registered fragments.
One missing shoe.
Blue fingers.
Hair stuck to blood near her temple.
A split lip.
One swollen eye.
A sweater torn at the shoulder.
Her body folded around its injuries as though she were trying to become small enough to vanish.
Then she breathed one word.
Mom.
I fell to
