shirt.
The discharge instructions were clear.
No strain.
No unnecessary stairs.
No heavy lifting.
Avoid stress.
I almost laughed at that last one.
Ryan picked me up two days later.
He looked tired, but not worried.
Cassie did not come.
She texted him through most of the ride.
I watched the message bubbles appear and disappear on his phone screen, and something in me started to brace.
When we got home, he helped me out of the SUV.
The driveway looked the same.
The mailbox still leaned slightly to the left.
The porch railing still needed paint.
The little flag still snapped in the wind.
Everything looked like home until I stepped inside.
Then Cassie said they had made a few changes.
Then Ryan carried my bag to the wrong room.
Then I saw my bedroom.
Cassie’s shoes.
Cassie’s bottles.
Cassie’s cardigan over Patricia’s chair in the corner of the
