My Granddaughter Called Me At 2 A.m. From An Intake Office

as her grandfather.

Then I looked at her the way I used to look at a file that didn’t add up.

Her face told one timeline. Her hands told another. Her posture told a third. None of it matched the neat little story Victoria had apparently delivered.

A senior coordinator walked in. Folder under his arm. Careful voice.

“Mr. Callaway, your granddaughter is continue reading …