e ye

d been since they thre

er felt like home. The city hadn't changed, but I had. Three years ago, the thought of being

perate, all-consuming fire, had bu

else. The papers had a field day with the story of the poor, delusional medical student and the wealthy

but as a doctor. And the city was

n a welcome-home par

and sideways glances. I could feel their eyes on me as I s

at her?

showing her face here

tal institution abroad. Lo

plotting something. Poor Ethan, and poor

ing flies. They couldn't touch the core of me anymore. That part

s. "Sarah, darling, why don' t you come and ta

e. "I' m fin

"Please, Sarah. Just t

ord that felt like a

erything

news anchor on the large television mounted over the fireplace. My father liked to

tragic update on the condition of renowned neurosurgeon Dr. B

ame echoed in the hollow space inside me

Ca

name feel s

for his humanitarian work and groundbreaking research, has been dec

m my fingers and shattered on the polished floor. Th

. It was a physical force, a tidal wave of grief that buckled my knees. A s

ow who Dr. B

that defied all logic, that

stares were not of judgment, but of sheer confusion.

t is it? Wha

name for a man I didn' t remember. Everyone in this room, everyone in this city, thought my wo

shed a singl

yed by the death of a

w a pair of expensive leather shoe

as E

s a mask of confusion and something else. Con

nd hovering over my shoulder before resting there gently.

ed? Who is Dr