𝐘ou don’t look like what he expects.

He’s met plenty of social workers in the past. Some come in suits, others in nightwear, pulled out of their perfectly comfortable beds to come and pick up a kid who has seen more than they ever needed too.

But you? You come into the er looking like a cat crash — no, more like a train wreck. Pinned up hair coming apart one strand at a time. Top buttons of your blouse are untethered, showing off the long gold chain around your neck. Cracked reading glasses pushed up to your hairline. Tennis shoes lazily tied, one step from being unlaced. If he hadn’t seen the files in your arms he would’ve expected you to just be another scared family member waiting for news on a loved one.

Kind and tired eyes sagged down as you walked up to him. Id already being held out for the checking. “Hi, I’m looking for Aubrey Bennett.” You say to him, trying to not be so obvious about the fact that your eyes were glued to his watch. Aubrey Bennett, the eleven year old girl pulled from her foster home that night, he’s heard whispers in the usually quiet hallways about her, about what happened but he works on facts, not rumors so he doesn’t pay them any attention.

“Oh, right. You’re the social worker, Dana told me you’d be here soon.” He motioned for you to follow, not giving you any time to process who he was talking about. Your footsteps were quiet behind his, so quiet that He had to peer over his shoulder every few minutes to check if you were still there.

He doesn’t walk inside the room once you reach it, he lingers in the doorway, watching you talk to the frightened girl in a soft and caring voice, like you deal with the kind of stuff she’s been through every day, which now that he thinks about it, you probably do.

When he swings back around hours later to check on the girl and if he’s being honest to glimpse at you again, he finds Aubrey gone, you sitting in the uncomfortably stiff chair next to her empty bed, laptop pulled onto your knees, keys clicking away under your fingers.

You look tired, the bags under your eyes saying more than you do it appears. “Can I help you with something?” You ask, not sparing him a look upwards.