I don’t do any of that. Instead I step forward and hug her, cradling her scrawny body as though she’s a little kid who needs comforting. She feels like one, all weightless bones and fragile limbs. She stiffens, then slumps against me and starts to cry. “Oh my God,” she says in a thick, raspy voice. “It’s all fucked up. Everything’s so massively fucked up.”
