Heather
23
Janet met them at the door, woofing a greeting. Tonya was there, too. She’d let herself in to drop off a chicken enchilada casserole.
“I bet you’re glad to be home,” Tonya said, taking bags and travel mugs out of Kathryn’s hands and stepping aside to let Heather pass. “How are you feeling, Heather?”
A surge of electricity shot from Heather’s feet to her chest. She swiveled around to face Tonya.
“How do you think I feel?” She dropped her belongings on the floor, deliberately stepped over them, and stomped to her room. She was still feverish but down to a manageable 102 degrees.
Inside the low light, she slid onto her bed, smelling her sheets, her pillows, her blankets. She’d been gone for less than thirty-six hours but had still missed the human smell of her room. Hospitals
