Blue Cotton Work Shirts Stitched Together for a Spring Dance
“There is no better medicine, honey,” he said, looking up at me with his tired gray eyes.
“Why did you keep working those double shifts?” I asked, my voice cracking. “You should have been resting.”
“A man has to finish what he starts,” he whispered, his grip on my fingers relaxing slightly.
“You do not owe anyone anything,” I said.
“I wanted to make sure you were set,” he said, his voice fading as he leaned back against the paper roll on the table.
He did not say anything else, and we sat in the quiet room while the clock on the wall ticked toward three.
A nurse in blue scrubs opened the door, carrying a small paper cup with two white pills.
“It is time for his rest,” she said, looking at me with a soft expression that made my stomach turn.
I let go of his hand, the coldness of his skin staying with me as I walked out to the parking lot.
The next morning, the hallway of Oakhaven High School was loud with the sound of laughter and shouting near the cafeteria.
