To the ability to stand before people who remembered who you had been.
“I will leave a door open.”
Harper squeezed my hand.
“That’s a good answer.”
“I dislike good answers.”
“I know.”
“They are usually expensive.”
“That’s freedom.”
I looked at her.
She did not smile.
The sentence deserved seriousness.
We moved farther into the room.
At one shelf, a woman sat alone on the floor beneath a name marked MISSING.
Harper lowered her voice.
“Should we leave?”
“No.”
The woman looked up and saw me.
She rose automatically.
“Commander.”
“Sit.”
She hesitated.
I corrected myself.
“If you prefer.”
Her mouth moved faintly.
She sat again.
Harper noticed.
Of course she did.
The woman’s gaze moved to Harper.
“This is Harper Avery.”
“Solmatu.”