Clara didn’t talk much the morning of the specialist appointment.
She was dressed before anyone else came downstairs.
Jeans. White shirt. Hair tied back.
She looked normal.
Too normal.
Daniel noticed.
“You didn’t sleep,” he said.
“I did.”
“How long?”
“Enough.”
“That’s not a number.”
She picked up her bag. “Are we going or are we interrogating?”
He didn’t respond. He just grabbed the car keys.
I followed behind them.
In the car, Clara stared out the window the entire drive. Daniel drove slower than usual. No music.
Halfway there, he said, “If you’re scared, you can say it.”
“I know.”
“And?”
She kept looking forward. “I don’t want to borrow fear.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t want to panic about something that hasn’t happened.”
He gripped the steering wheel t
