You should have let me eat him, he said. At the sound of comprehensible words she understood two things: the first, he was almost as angry as Kaylin had become, and the second, that he probably could.

“I don’t see why you should have fun when I’m not allowed to have any.”

His reply was a very loud squawk.

Amaldi and Darreno were standing in front of Mrs. Erickson, and given Darreno’s expression, he wasn’t any happier with the neighbor than Kaylin. He might even be angrier, which she would have bet was impossible.

It was Amaldi who said, “The worst part about our condition is the helplessness. We can see everything. We can do nothing.”

“He isn’t your problem, dear,” Mrs. Erickson said, her voice gentle. “And we have laws in this city that are meant to help people like me. If you could interfere, and you killed the man, you’d suffer for it—and I would feel guilty for the rest of my life. He’s never hit me.”

“He’d better not,” Kaylin snapped, simmering. She turned on her heel, but the man had retreated into his own, much larger, house. She wondered if Hope could set it on fire.

I could.

She reached out and clamped his legs to her shoulder.

“He wasn’t always like this,” Mrs. Erickson said, as if Kaylin hadn’t spoken.

“I don’t care if he was a saint when he was a child,” Kaylin replied, more tersely than she’d intended.

“Well, I wasn’t,” Mrs. Erickson said, in a far kinder tone. “There’s no point in regrets, but I don’t think you can live as long as I have without finding some anyway. They’re like burrs. They cling. Sometimes you don’t regret a thing until far later, when you can see it in a different light. Come in, come in.” She glanced at Amaldi and Darreno.

Both shook their heads. Darreno was only barely paying attention; he was glaring at the neighbor’s house, as if the walls were transparent and he could focus on the man inside them.

“They never come into my house,” Mrs. Erickson said. “I can’t offer them much in the way of hospitality.”

“You’ve offered them friendship—or what friendship you can. At this point in their lives, I don’t imagine they think of normal hospitality the way the rest of us do.” Hope kept his wing up over Kaylin’s eyes.

“Haven’t you ever had those days when what you can offer someone in need never feels like it’s enough?”

“Sure.” Often. “But you’re offering everything you can.”

Mrs. Erickson nodded in a way that indicated she’d heard the words, considered them, and found them both true and wanting at the same time. She headed down the hall, indicating with a hand that Kaylin—heavy basket in arms—should follow.