the badge.
“And miss?” she called as I turned away. “Prepare yourself. She may not recognize you.”
The elevator seemed to take forever.
When the doors opened, a nurse led me down a silent corridor and stopped outside room 318. Through the narrow window, I saw the couple from Bellamy’s standing beside the bed.
The woman still wore her green dress, though it was wrinkled now. The man’s silver hair was disheveled. Neither looked elegant anymore. They looked exhausted.
“That ring.”
I pushed open the door.
The woman turned. Her eyes widened when she saw the plastic bag in my hand.
“That ring,” she whispered.
I stepped between them and the bed. “Where did you get it?”
“Please,” the man said, raising his hands. “The patient needs quiet.”
“You stole this from my mother.”
The woman stared at me. “Your mother?”
I looked down.
For four months, I had imagined
