I picked up my pen and began to write my first report.

The room was quiet, save for the hum of the traffic below my window.

I felt a quiet sense of resolution.

The truth had cost us a great deal, but we had paid the price, and we were finally free.

I signed the bottom of the page and closed the folder.

Outside, the rain had stopped, and the sun was beginning to break through the clouds.

I stood up, took my coat from the hanger, and walked out into the afternoon light.

There was still work to be done.

I walked down the steps of the building and joined the crowd on the sidewalk, just another person moving forward in the city.

The pavement was wet, reflecting the gray sky and the white stone of the buildings.

I walked toward the metro station, my boots clicking against the concrete.

The air was crisp and smelled of autumn.

For the first time in a long time, I did not feel the weight of the past holding me back.

I was just Grace Mercer, and I was going home.