Just silent, broken crying, as if she had been told she was not allowed to make noise and believed it.
I crossed the room and sat beside her.
She climbed into my lap so fast her forehead hit my collarbone.
Her fingers locked behind my neck.
“No one is taking you anywhere,” I whispered.
The younger officer crouched a little, far enough away not to scare her.
“That’s right, Charlotte. No one is taking you anywhere.”
Her body shook against mine.
I could feel every tremor.
The officers finished their notes and asked a few plain questions.
No injury.
No danger.
No case.
Just two little girls, one plastic horse, one shove, and two adults who had decided fear was a lesson plan.
Before they left, the older officer turned to my mother.
“If this happens again, it may be considered misuse of emergency services.”
My mother gave him the same smile she used on bank tellers and church ladies.
