“Thank you, Evelyn,” he said, his voice thick.

He turned and walked through the door into Mary’s room.

I watched him through the glass as he approached the bed.

The sheet was pulled up to Mary’s chin, her face still and white under the harsh fluorescent lights.

Ethan stood beside her for a long time, not moving, just looking down at her.

He slowly reached out and touched her hand, which was resting on top of the blanket.

Then he sat down in the vinyl chair next to the bed, placing Lauren’s pink backpack on his lap.

I sat down on the bench in the hallway, my bones aching from the cold and the exhaustion.

Inside the room, Ethan unpinned the safety pin on the backpack.

He reached inside to find something, his hand brushing against a worn, leather-bound notebook.

He pulled the notebook out, his brow furrowing as he looked at the cover.

I watched him open the first page.

Ethan did not look up when I stepped back into the room.

The heavy door clicked shut behind me, blocking out the quiet hum of the hallway.