[While she cries it out, Joel lets her and says nothing. He's gentle but firm as he rubs her back, his mind drifting to an afternoon decades ago, rainy like tonight, a small blonde girl crying and sniffling against his chest where he cradled her after she'd broken her wrist. He had warned her not to be a monkey, to keep the climbing in the playground on the monkeybars, not high in the trees, but Sarah had loved it- the thrill of going up up up, being higher than everyone.

To rouse himself from the memory threatening to suffocate him Joel speaks up, keeping his voice a soft drawl between them.]

I'll be right here the entire time. [To chase your demons away.] Close your eyes, baby girl, hush.

[A little more shifting and he's carefully got her ponytail freed, her elastic pulled onto his right wrist for safekeeping.]

... Dream of Mary and her little lamb, with fleece as white as snow. Dream that everywhere Mary went, the lamb was sure to go... [That drawl continues but in a murmuring and soothing, steady singsong.]