You sat on the scratchy beige sofa in the visiting room, your small legs dangling off the edge, too short to touch the floor.

Mrs. Patterson, the center director, smoothed her skirt and smiled down at you.

One was tall. Very tall. She walked with a slow, measured step, her dark coat perfectly buttoned, her hair pulled back tight.

The other was shorter, softer looking. She laughed at something the tall one said, and her hand found the tall one's elbow.

The door swung open.