“— I’m not going anywhere with you!” the girl insists.
“— I want to go to mom!”
She pouts and folds her arms across her chest. “But I’m not some fool,” I tell her.
“You’ve got only two options: either you go with me, or you go to an orphanage. And in an orphanage, you probably won’t like it.”
“How do you explain to a four-year-old that I want to help her?”
Where did that feeling of responsibility for this girl come from? Damn it all!
“You’re a bad uncle!” she won’t calm down.
And the people around us start looking at us in a bad way.
“All right, little one— you asked for it!” I say, no longer dealing gently with her, and pick her up.
When the out-of-control truck flew straight toward the car next to mine, I found nothing better than to shove it out of the way.
Now there’s a little girl in my arms. And her mother is— the only girl I ever loved.