Skilled writers don’t skip sequels. They learn how to compress, disguise, and bury them—so the story keeps moving, but the character still turns.

After the crash, O’Connor gives us one sentence of omission. It’s not mood. It’s structure. A full internal arc buried in restraint—and the choice that sets everything in motion.

The grandmother’s final moment isn’t a plea—it’s a sequel. Emotional reaction, review, anticipation, and decision compressed into a single gesture of grace.