Staring at the book, I lift it off the nightstand and softly flip through the pages. Something about the moment triggers old memories—the sounds of medical equipment, the sight of a hospital bed, a book, clasped in my hand. I remember Nana, who spent her final months here in this same room, years ago. I remember my small self, curled up with her, proudly reading to her from my board books. A strange, terrifying idea takes hold of my thoughts. Carefully, I scoot closer to Joy’s bed. Hands shaking, I open the book and turn to the earmarked page, Chapter 32. My breath catches in my throat when a
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nah cause ill cry
