wasn’t enough.
I sold the second car.
Canceled the dentist.
Learned which gas station off Route 9 was four cents cheaper and planned around it because four cents mattered.
And every night before letting myself sleep in the hospital chair, I checked my phone once more.
The family thread stayed silent.
Eventually, I stopped being surprised.
The oncology floor has its own clock.
Outside, people measure life in mornings, weekends, meetings.
Inside, the day turns on blood draws, medications, vitals, and the strange hush between three and five in the
