They Asked for Thirty Lemon Desserts While My Newborn Fought to Breathe

I walked slowly along the wall, keeping my left palm pressed against the cool wallpaper for balance.

By the stainless steel water fountain down the hall, the quiet was complete, broken only by the low rumble of the air handlers above the ceiling tiles.

I leaned my shoulder against the wall beside the fountain and rested my forehead on the cold white tiles.

A burning knot tightened in my throat, hot and heavy, before I could stop it.

I pressed my lips together, but in the silence of the empty hallway the small, shaky sound of my breathing seemed terribly loud.