He had been protected before.
That was the thing he kept coming back to.
He had been protected before, against his will, by people who had decided that the best way to help him was to make decisions about his situation without asking.
His family, when he was young.
The man at nineteen, who would have called it protection.
Two people at a catering company who had gone to their supervisor about a situation rather than coming to him.
All of them, in their own ways, had decided that helping Damian meant moving pieces on his behalf.
Without asking.
Without telling.
Without treating him as someone who got a say in what happened to him.
He had spent years learning to recognize that pattern.
To feel it coming before it arrived.
To exit before the decision was made.
This was different.
He had been trying to understand why it was different for two days.
---
He was in the library.
Of course he was in the library.
It was Friday morning.
The filing would go on Monday.
