Valerie Came Home From Deployment to Find Her Twelve-Year-Old Daughter in Intensive Care
“No.
She hung up when I asked for her name.”
Marisol stacked the papers and tapped them straight.
“I’ll walk this to the clerk myself.”
I paid twelve dollars at the kiosk for another day of parking and went back up to the fourth floor.
At two thirty I sat beside Abigail in room 412, her right hand warm in mine.
“Your bed at home is made,” I told her.
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