Where There's Smoke

EPILOGUE

The hospital smell is hot radiators and antiseptic. She cries out as the pain clubs at her. It seems as if it will never stop. Then, at last, it does. She sinks back.

Her short hair, still growing back, is plastered to her head.

Below one sleeve of the white cotton gown, the pink line of a newly healed scar shows. As the pain ebbs, she raises her head as a white-smocked woman approaches, holding something wriggling feebly in her arms.

The woman smiles. “It’s a boy.”