The Man in the Room
They got off on the oncology floor.
The smell hit me first—cleaning solution and something sterile that always makes you feel like you shouldn’t breathe too loudly.
I watched them walk down the hallway and stop at a room near the end.
James knocked once, then opened the door like he’d done it many times before.
Lily rushed in first.
James followed.
I stayed back, heart pounding, and moved close enough to see through the small window in the door.
Inside, a man sat up in a hospital bed.
Older. Silver hair. Pale but smiling.
And at the foot of the bed—like a bright red punctuation mark—was a small terrier with a red bandana.
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