My daughter isn't looking at the rotting remains of her flower garden. Her eyes are locked into mine, with the intensity of a child too young not to take the world seriously. Are we going to jail?

No, I say, and smile. They only go personally after the big ones; for small people like us this destruction suffices.

She nods. Am I going to die?

I kneel and hug her. No, of course not, I say, with every bit of certainty I can muster. There's nothing patented in you, I want to add, but she's old enough to know that'd be a lie.

I feel her chest move and I realize she had been holding her breath. We stay together, just breathing. The air is filled with legal pathogens looking for illegal things to kill.

.finis.