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The child’s cries weren’t loud. He wasn’t screaming; it was more like he was trying to choke them back, but the grief was too much. His little mouth was pulled into a tight line, and tears streamed down his face, leavi- ng his eyes and cheeks red and swollen. It was heartbreaking to watch.
The big man seemed at a loss. He paced the room, bouncing the boy in his arms, trying every trick he could
think of to soothe him. But the child seemed deaf to it all, lost in his own sorrow.
I don’t know how I heard his quiet sobs from two floors down, but I found myself gently pushing the door
open.
The man inside looked up, instantly on alert. He probably didn’t recognize me. Seeing my white coat, he ask-
ed gruffly, “What do you want?“
