“‘This is Diana—our family dropout,’ my mother said for the fifteenth Thanksgiving in a row, but when my sister’s new husband reached across the table to shake my hand, his grip locked, his face went still, and the room forgot how to laugh before he said the two words nobody there was prepared to hear”

my desk at the Pentagon annex. Three weeks past lunch with Michelle and two weeks past a long call with Cassidy that ended with actual plans being made. A trip to Richmond in May. Dinner with just the three of us. No agenda.

The morning briefing stack was on my left. Coffee was in my Navy-issued mug.

My phone buzzed.

Cassidy had texted me a photo.

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