I checked the medication organizer.
The midday compartment remained full.
“Noah.”
“I forgot.”
“You didn’t get the alarm?”
“What alarm?”
I had set one on his phone the previous night.
The phone sat on the far end of the coffee table, screen dark.
He had fallen asleep before plugging it in.
I crossed to the refrigerator.
“What sounds manageable?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“That was not the question.”
He sighed.
“Something cold.”
I assembled turkey, cheese, cucumber, and mustard on soft bread. I added crackers, grapes, and one of the small yogurt drinks Maeve recommended when solid food felt like work.
Noah came into the kitchen while I was cutting the sandwich.
“I should do this.”
“You’re dizzy and overdue for medication.”
“I can make a sandwich.”
“I know.”
“Then move.”
I turned.
He looked pale and furious.
Not at me.
At the body that had failed to send hunger until nausea arrived.
At the sleeping phone.
At the fact that one missed routine still had consequences.
I stepped aside.
Noah rolled to the counter.
