Chapter 23 - The cage disappears
The metal cage stayed near the shed for months because police documented it.
Then the case no longer required the physical enclosure.
They returned control to me.
I stood in the backyard staring at it.
My first impulse was violent.
Sledgehammer.
Cut it apart.
Burn it.
Post a photo.
All the cinematic nonsense anger invents.
Instead I called a scrap-metal company.
They disassembled it.
Loaded panels onto a truck.
Gave me a receipt for thirty-eight dollars in scrap value.
Boring.
Perfect.
No memorial.
No ritual.
No revenge.
The patch of mud remained.
I planted grass.
It died.
Tried again.
Eventually green.
Noah avoided that side of the backyard for almost a year.
I never forced.
Then one spring morning, his soccer ball rolled near the shed.
He stopped.
Looked at me.
I said nothing.
He walked over.
Picked it up.
Came back.
May you like
That was all.
Recovery did not need me clapping.
