❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
“I’m fine, really - I’m good. You’re the one that looks they need to sleep.”
The bags under Teddy’s eyes spoke to many a sleepless night, the bed cold on Henry’s side. She rarely slept when Henry was in hospital, and who could blame her? Every morning, she feared that she might wake and find that he’d lived out his last day.
“Work’s been tough lately,” Teddy lied, hoping beyond hope that Henry wouldn’t see through it. He had enough to worry about without adding her to the list.
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