And she did.
She told me with the focused, sequential clarity of a woman who had organized the experience into information before I arrived, who had sat on the edge of the bed and processed what had happened and arranged it into the form that would be most useful and was now delivering it with the precision of someone who understood that accuracy mattered. The sound she had heard. The handle moving. The position she had taken to the side of the door with the lamp. The figure coming through and turning and the two seconds of inattention she had used to swing and connect and the grip on her wrist after and the hand over her mouth and the screaming that had changed the calculation and the release and the exit.
I listened to every word.
I listened with the part of me that was always listeni
