KARIN
The question caught him off guard. I felt it before I saw it. His thoughts stalled, like he had run into a wall he did not expect. He blinked once, then again. He had to search for the answer.
When was the last time anyone had asked him what he wanted, instead of telling him what he owed?
“I want to go home,” he said. The words came out slow, careful. “I want to see my sister again. She’s only fourteen. If I die here…”
He could not finish the thought. He did not have to.
“Then don’t die here,” I said. “Choose something else.”
I did not wait for him to respond. I let go and moved on.
One mind. Then the next. Then another. Each connection settled into place, threads tightening into a wider web. I was not pushing. I was listening. I was opening doors and letting them decide whet
