If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise. -William Butler Yeats
Sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, my feet dangle several inches off the floor. I swing them back and forth, waiting for the nurse to come in with the release papers. I'm dressed in a peach T-shirt, sweats, and slip-on shoes.
Drake is silent. He's sitting in the corner of the room. I don't know what to say to break the tension in the air between us. His eyes appear tired, and his face has a haggard look. For the past five days, he's been close by. He hasn't left my side. But now, the man's inability to sit still has me on edge.
"I'm surprised my mother or Maria didn't come with you." I run a finger over my lip. The cut is better, but still sore.
"They wanted to make sure everything was ready when you
