umming that matched the frantic beat of my own heart. Outside, the world was

oom, to the sight of my mother clutching her

," I said, my voice tight with a pa

etached sort of calm that offered no comfort. "All our units are delayed,

ifying quiet between my mother' s gasps for air

My thumb hovered over Sarah' s name. My wife.

e she picked up. The background was noisy, fil

y hear you." Her voice was brig

t. "She' s having a heart attack. I' m at her hou

ng to someone else. Then she was back. "Oh my god, Ethan. That' s awfu

, Sarah.

ey. I promise

ld my mother' s hand, telling her that Sarah was on her way, that everything would be okay. I stare

ever

vements efficient and grim. But I already knew. I saw it in the way they l

was

r away. The rain had softened to a drizzle, but the storm inside

t straight to voicemail. Her phone was off. My desperatio

lock in the hall, each tick marking another second of my new, empty reality. My ph

seeing this?

s a screenshot. M

table, a glass of red wine in her hand. She was laughing, her head thrown back, a wide, carefree smile on her f

s in advance. The timestamp on the picture was from an hour after I had called her. While my mot

smug sentence: "Some thin

phone. The turned-off phone. The broken promise. It w

the edge of the table. The grief for my mother was a raw,

essage. I typed two sentences, my thumbs movi

r. Don' t c

one rang. It was Sarah. Her voic

t, Ethan? What are

Sarah." The wor

. "Oh. Oh, honey, I' m so

ark Wilson?" I asked, my

was a work thing, just for

ir from my lungs. She thought I was that stupid. After

he pictur

le

s over," I said

dark screen of my phone. The grief was a physical weight, crushing my chest. But underneath it, a new feeling was