Mira shows up at the Exchange's public entrance on a Tuesday afternoon, which technically isn't allowed, and technically doesn't stop her.
"You can't just show up here," I say, meeting her in the small visitor's lobby before security can decide whether to escalate the situation.
"I called four times. You didn't answer once." She crosses her arms, the same stubborn set to her jaw our mother used to get. "I'm done being told to wait at home for updates that come whenever you remember I exist."
"Mira, this isn't safe for you to be near."
"Neither is sitting alone in my apartment wondering if you're okay, which is what I've been doing for weeks now." Her voice cracks slightly, more hurt than anger underneath it. "I told you I didn't want to be protected from the truth anymore. You said I'd
