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There was no dad running in, breathless and terrified. No grandparents rushing over. No one.
Just Rosie in my arms while strangers moved around us, and the whole world she knew collapsed quietly.
“Do you know any relatives?”
“No.”
“Did the mother ever mention the father?
Anyone who might have a legal claim?”
“Not to me,” I said. “I just deliver boxes.”
Rosie was on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders and a stuffed unicorn in her lap, listening even when we thought she wasn’t.
When they said “temporary placement” and “foster,” she slid off the couch and walked straight to me.
She grabbed my hand in both of hers.
I want to stay with her. Don’t make me go.”
The officer looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Ma’am, you understand what that means?”
I looked down at Rosie, face blotchy, lips almost blue from the cold, eyes begging like her whole body was a question.
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