It was cold, sharp, and focused.

Three days later, the discharge papers were signed, and the nurse wheeled me to the lobby.

The Denver sun was blinding against the snow outside the glass sliding doors.

Thomas was waiting in his old truck, the engine idling, the heater blowing warm air.

I climbed into the passenger seat, my body still sore and weak, but my mind entirely clear.

I reached into my purse to find my phone, wanting to check my emails and see if Laura’s flight from Phoenix had landed yet.

As the screen lit up, a series of urgent push notifications from my banking app cascaded down the display.

I tapped the first one, my heart skipping a beat as the red text glared back at me in the bright morning light.

The red text glared back at me in the bright morning light.

It was an alert from my primary banking application.

*Account status: Suspended.*

I tapped the screen with a trembling thumb, my skin still dry and pale from the hospital stay.

I tried to log in, but the screen flashed a generic error message.