The wooden door creaked on its rusty hinges, and the second nurse stepped into the chamber carrying a heavy wicker basket. It was heaped high with crisp, crimson apples that filled the room with a sweet, fresh scent.
"Greetings, Luna," she offered softly, placing the heavy basket onto the bedside table with a polite smile. "Please accept my deepest condolences. I brought these fresh apples for you to enjoy so you might feel better."
The first nurse spun around on her heel, her face turning a furious shade of bright red as if her head were about to explode.
"Condolences??" she shrieked, her voice echoing off the high walls. "Is she deceased? Are you actively wishing for the Devil’s Luna to be dead right now?!" She turned to me, her hands clasped tightly together as she bowed frantically.
