We passed through the metal detector and the heavy steel gate.

The visiting room was large, divided by a thick sheet of plexiglass.

It was empty except for a guard standing near the door.

And two people sitting on the other side of the glass.

My breath caught in my chest.

It was Claire.

She wore a dark green coat, and her face was flushed from the cold outside.

Her hair was longer now, pulled back in a simple clip.

She looked tired, but her eyes were clear and calm.

Next to her sat a little girl.

She wore a bright yellow winter coat with a faux-fur hood.

She had dark, curly hair that fell around her face.

She was swinging her legs, her small boots hitting the wooden legs of her chair.

I walked to the station directly across from them.

My hands were shaking so hard I could barely lift the black telephone receiver.

Claire picked up her receiver.

She looked at me through the glass.

There was no anger in her face.

There was only a quiet, deep sadness.

“Hello, Adrian,” she said.