The silence between her and the rest of us grew heavy and cold.

She adjusted the strap of her designer handbag, her fingers trembling slightly against the leather.

“This is a mistake,” she whispered, though no one turned to look at her.

I turned my back to her and focused on the green terminal screen next to Derek.

“How is the voltage looking on sector three?” I asked him.

“Stabilizing,” Derek said, his voice loud in the quiet room.

“The backup generator at the clinic just kicked in.”

The air in the basement felt cool and damp, smelling of ozone and wet pavement from the street above.

I could hear the rain starting to tap against the small street-level window near the ceiling.

Behind me, I heard the soft rustle of my mother’s silk coat as she turned toward the exit.

The heels of her designer shoes clicked softly against the concrete floor as she walked toward the stairs.

My dad didn’t follow her immediately.

He stayed near the door, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, watching the amber light on the server.