“She fainted? She’ll live. Our flight with your sister leaves at six,” Dad said, and they went. I spent nine days in that ward alone. They strolled back demanding to sign me out.
It always began the same way: a flutter high in my chest, like a bird trapped behind my ribs. My pulse lost its rhythm and sprinted toward nowhere. The kitchen flashed bright, narrowed, then grayed at the edges. I reached …
