not consent and peace was not the same as justice.
Daniel became part of the work gradually.
He never arrived with flowers or grand speeches.
He listened when I spoke about Victor, but he never treated my grief as an opening to claim intimacy.
The first time he touched my hand, we were standing outside the clinic after a long day.
Snow began to fall, fine and bright beneath the streetlights.
“You look tired,” he said.
“I am.”
“Would you like company?”
“Company or rescue?”
“Company.”
“Then yes.”
At the
