Not feeling anything, what an awful concept, Sarah thought. As a third-year speech pathologist at Mercy, she had made her living out of words, helping patients speak again after stroke, traumatic brain injury, or in the face of disease—but what could she do when the seeds so deep inside her had ceased to function, when no argument would make them change their minds?
But she didn’t have time to consider that—her office door was opening, a shot of shadow widening on the floor, dark and impossible to ignore. The girl was coming. Her father, Henry, had said he would bring her, scheduled an extra twenty minutes for his appointment, insisting that she was a special case.