Theodore whimpered against my shoulder, his small fingers tangled in the edge of his blue wool blanket while his forehead gave off heat against my neck.

I laid him down on the cotton pad, dipped a cloth in the basin of cool water, and wiped the sweat from his temples.

He let out a small, shuddering breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

My laptop sat on the dresser next to a fresh sixty-five-dollar box of baby fever drops.

I opened the gray lid, waited for the screen to light up, and typed in the exact chemical name I had memorized off the white box in Raymond’s room.

The search icon spun for three seconds before a medical reference page loaded in black print.