Rena
The afternoon sun slanted through the blinds of the recovery center, painting golden stripes across my father's bed. I watched him from my spot on the uncomfortable vinyl couch, noticing how the light softened the lines on his face—lines that had deepened so dramatically after the accident. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was something in his expression I'd almost forgotten: contentment.
"She winked at me, Rena," Dad said, his voice carrying a hint of boyish pride that made my heart swell. "Did you catch that when she took my tray? The nurse with the red hair?"
"Marie?" I asked, unable to suppress my smile. "Dad, she's just being nice."
"Being nice doesn't include a wink," he insisted, tapping his temple with his index finger—a gesture so familiar it made my th
