On the whiteboard across from the bed, Nurse Ruth had drawn a little green heart beside Caleb’s name in thick blue dry-erase marker.

The heart monitor chimed once, its green line rising steadily across the dark glass screen.

Nurse Ruth unhooked a fresh bag of saline from the stainless steel stand and hung it on the tall metal pole next to the bedside monitor.

Morning light slipped through the plastic blinds, laying long yellow rectangles across the linoleum floor.

I pressed a cool washcloth to Caleb’s forehead, wiping away the tiny beads of sweat along his hairline.

He squeezed the worn corner of his faded green triceratops blanket between two fingers, breathing slowly and softly.