The ones who are cold in warm rooms. The ones who have learned to make themselves small so nobody notices they are disappearing. She notices. Every time. Because her father once asked a girl he had never met if she was hungry and meant it. And kept meaning it. For four years. I didn’t save Amara. I just kept cooking. She saved herself. I just made sure she had enough in her stomach to do it. Look around you. There is someone in your orbit right now wearing a jacket in a warm room. Open the door. Mean it. That is the whole thing. That is everything.