Blue charity wristband. Old race bibs in the file organizer. Amy’s diner photograph beside the refrigerator. Four things. Cold floor. Chair beneath my hand. Shirt against my back. Breath moving through my nose. Three sounds. Refrigerator hum. Traffic outside. My phone vibrating with a message from Rose.
Awake. Eat. No heroics.
I laughed once. The panic shifted. Not gone. Moved. I ate the rest of the toast.
Gloria arrived at four thirty with coffee she did not allow me to drink and Lola asleep across the back seat.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“Family support.”
“You look alive.”
“Better.”
She hugged me. The embrace lasted longer than usual. When she released me, she touched the charity wristband.
“Still your choice?”
“Yes.”
“Finish required?”
“No.”
“The honest answer?”
“No.”
She waited. I tried again.
“I want to finish. I do not require it to remain a person.”
Gloria nodded.
“Better.”
Lola woke when we reached the athlete shuttle. She opened one eye.
“Did you bring the dinosaur?”
Gloria held up the foam ankylosaurus.
“Emotionally hers.”
Lola sat up.
“Aunt Dani.”
“Yeah?”
“If you stop safe, I’m still getting pancakes.”
I smiled.
“Good boundaries.”
She reached through the gap between the seats and squeezed my shoulder.
