Jessica looked down.
“No.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow.
“Seems like it.”
Jessica shook her head.
“His hand caused this.”
Patricia considered that.
Then nodded.
“You’re right.”
Jessica folded the cap once more.
Her mother watched her.
“You could’ve shown him earlier.”
“Yes.”
“Would it have ended faster?”
“Probably.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Jessica looked toward a young family placing flowers near the memorial.
A teenage boy stood beside his mother.
He wore an oversized camouflage jacket.
Surplus.
No rank.
No patches.
Just fabric.
Jessica watched him carefully.
“If he grabbed that kid,” she said, “would rank matter?”
Patricia followed her gaze.
“No.”
“That’s why.”
Her mother looked back at her.
Jessica continued.
“If I had shown him immediately, he might have apologized because I outranked him.”
She shook her head.
“That wasn’t the lesson he needed.”
Patricia’s expression softened.
“You wanted him to stop because it was wrong.”
