I left it under the desk lamp and pushed open the door to Room 304.

Toby was propped up on two white hospital pillows, his right arm bound tight in a rigid fiberglass splint that ran from his fingers to past his elbow.

His small face was pale under the harsh fluorescent light, but his breathing was slow and deep.

He held the three good fingers of his left hand curled tight together against the light blue blanket.

“Hi, Mom,” he whispered.