Lyla

“This is really beautiful,” Melanie told me, handing back the tablet.

I looked down at it, the last sentence I’d written—no, plea—staring back at me. I had no idea how long we’d been sitting here, but it was well into the late afternoon and early evening given how far the sun had set outside the big windows framing the front of the living room.

My finger hovered over the screen, the little save ...