When I stepped out of the cab, the sky was overcast —that washed-out gray that blurred the edges of the world, like even the weather was holding its breath. It was the beginning of winter.
I pulled my coat tighter around me as I walked toward the hospital entrance. My steps slowed instinctively, nerves flickering just under the surface. After yesterday, after the phrase Mark had said, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about the letter. About what he felt.
I hadn't expected to see him waiting outside.
He was leaning against the wall near the side entrance, a coffee in his hand. The moment our eyes met, he straightened.
"Hey," he said, his voice low but steady. "Do you have a minute?"
I paused. "Yeah… of course."
He nodded toward the edge of the lot. "Do you mind walking a bit?"
