kind of harsh fluorescent light that made every face look tired.
Gertrude lay beneath a thin hospital blanket with an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose.
The mask fogged faintly with each shallow breath.
Her hand rested motionless in mine, cold at the fingertips and papery across the knuckles.
A heart monitor beside the bed kept changing its rhythm, quickening and slowing in a way that made me afraid to look away.
“Gertrude, please don’t leave me,” I whispered.
A nurse adjusted a line, checked the screen, and told
