Skater watched the diagrams pop up and wash away the soft blue of the monitor. Emma slept on his shoulder, still restless even in slumber, her thumb tucked tightly in her mouth, her breath cloying with the scent of formula. He knew he should lay her down in her own bed; his arm was already partially numb from holding the weight of her. But he didn’t want to let go of his daughter because she felt so warm against him. It was 16:06:06 p.m. A mere fourteen hours since they’d all nearly gotten geeked at the funeral home. Skater felt he’d lived a lifetime in less than a day. And the chill from the narrow escape only a little more than an hour ago sill vibrated inside him, making him feel almost hollowed out. Emma’s presence took the edge off it.