Then at Charlie. You’ve shared more in one signal than most adults do in a thousand words, she muttered. And with a trembling hand, she set down the gavel.
Not in judgment, but in awe. Six months later. Where Lila sat, the sun was shining on the park bench, a drawing pad in her lap, Charlie coiled beside her.
A little boy approached and asked, Can I pet your dog? Lila looked up. She smiled.
Only if you ask him first. How? She tapped her chest, twice.
Charlie gave a happy bark and wagged his tail. And Lila started laughed after a long time. A real laugh.
The kind that said the bridge was working.
