At the hospital room door, I watch Johanna for a moment, realize that most of her ferocity is in her abrasive attitude. Stripped of that, as she is now, there’s only a slight young woman, her wide-set eyes fighting to stay awake against the power of the drugs. Terrified of what sleep will bring. I cross to her and hold out the bundle. “What’s that?” she says hoarsely. Damp edges of her hair form little spikes over her forehead. “I made it for you. Something to put in your drawer.” I place it in her hands. “Smell it.” She lifts the bundle to her nose and takes a tentative sniff. “Smells like
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