Then, on an ordinary Tuesday, Sarah came home from work pale and shaky.
« I think I just need to lie down, » she told me, brushing my worry aside. « It’s probably nothing. »
« You’re burning up, Sarah. Let me drive you to the hospital. »
« Don’t scare the kids. I’ll be fine by morning. »
« It’s probably nothing. »She wasn’t fine by morning.
Less than forty-eight hours later, a doctor told me she was gone.
I do not remember driving home that night.
I only remembered standing in the doorway of our bedroom, staring at her side of the bed, unable to step inside.
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