small gray date and time.
Something about it caught in my mind.
I didn’t investigate that night.
I was exhausted, Kora needed her four o’clock medication, and exhaustion wins over suspicions.
But that timestamp stayed with me.
A few nights later, Kora spiked a fever.
The dangerous kind.
The kind that empties a room of calm and fills it with gloves.
Her temperature climbed.
The monitor changed.
For two hours, everybody avoided saying the word that sat in the room with us anyway.
I needed someone at home.
Anyone.
Because
