Kenneth opened the door and stepped aside.

The bed had been made.

Her blanket, the one with faded purple stars, lay folded on the visitor chair.

Someone had placed her water bottle beside a small bag of belongings.

The monitors were quiet.

The silence was so complete I could hear the paper in my pocket move as I breathed.

I picked up the blanket and held it against my face.

“I bought this when she was thirteen,” I whispered.