“I was on the elevator just now,” she said. “I was alone. And suddenly I imagined that next to me was me, as a child. A little girl in a cute dress, looking up at me.” She swallowed hard. I could see tears welling in her eyes. Those familiar mirrors I’d first looked into all those years ago. “The world hadn’t broken her yet. Hadn’t made her believe she was broken. I imagined reaching out my hand to her. She took it. And as the doors opened, I said to her, ‘Come with me. Come with me. It’s going to be all right.’”
