Janet scampers over, leaving the other girl to sit by the couch staring dully towards where Janet escaped her vision around the corner. She doesn’t look at me.

Kids.

I hear Nicole crying and I leave the other child to go stand by the door to the dark bedroom. The silhouette of Nicole sits up and hoists Janet onto her lap and holds her. Janet looks stoic, but returns the hug.

She doesn’t understand, not really. Maybe she doesn’t care. It makes me angry, but not at her– the people who made her. They abandoned this thing so that Nicole and I might come along and take it into our home. No one could be prepared for a day like this.

There’s an official, authoritative knock on the door. I go to answer it and three men in suits stand there invasively, but they mean no harm.

“Hi there!” He shakes my hand firmly, with a mechanical grip. “You must be Mr. Roots. Is Janet here?”