The comforting idea that this had been a sudden morning accident vanished into the dry hospital air.

This had been done on purpose, and my mother was the one giving the orders.

I stood in the fluorescent glare of the hallway.

The phone felt heavy and cold in my hand.

I kept staring at the preview of my mother’s text on the bright screen.

I stuffed the phone into my back pocket and followed a young nurse through a pair of heavy wooden doors.

The hall here was lined with closed doors painted a soft green, very different from the bright waiting area.