Then, on a normal Tuesday, Sarah came home from work looking pale and unsteady.
“I think I just need to lie down,” she told me, brushing my concern away. “It’s probably nothing.”
“You’re burning up, Sarah. Let me drive you to the hospital.”
“Don’t scare the kids. I’ll be fine by morning.”
She was not fine by morning.
Less than forty-eight hours later, a doctor told me she was gone.
I do not remember driving home that night.