I should’ve known something would go disastrously wrong. My
sister had never been that fervent about a turkey sandwich in her life. Not realizing that the
ground was topped with puffs of snow was one thing, but letting Zoey play
outside, not clueing in when the kid got super energetic, letting her trip, fall and brake an
ankle was another. I hurried
her to the hospital and let the nurse slip her behind a silky, white curtain. I watched
the nurse change the battery
in her walky-talky and murmur into it. She turned around to stare at me incredulously.
“She’s three,” I supplied weakly.
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