way she had as a child.
But when the door actually opened, I froze.
Cynthia walked inside.
She looked taller.
Thinner.
Older somehow.
For half a second, she simply stared at me.
Then her face broke.
“Mom!”
She ran.
I caught her and held on so tightly I could barely breathe.
I kissed her hair, her forehead, her cheeks.
I couldn’t stop touching her because some terrified part of me still believed she might vanish again.
Finally, Cynthia pulled back.
“They told me you agreed.”
My stomach dropped.
“Agreed to
