“Physically, she’s fine,” the doctor said. “We could discharge her today, except…” Savannah was sitting on the hospital armchair, looking out the window. To someone who didn’t know her well, she looked okay. Her hair was brushed, her clothes neat and clean. I knew her well. Her hair wasn’t glimmering. Her skin wasn’t glowing. She hadn’t even bothered to sneer at the old sneakers I was wearing.Something was very wrong.“We think it’s a type of post-partum depression,” he continued. “And, from what you’ve described, there’s probably post-traumatic stress as well. She refuses to take anti-depressants, and, well…”“I’ll take care of her,” I told him. He nodded, relieved. “I’ll get the paperwork together,” he said as he left.“Hey Savvie,” I said. She looked up at me and raised her eyebrows, but otherwise there was no expression on her face. Not even her usual disdain for me and my fashion choices.My heart twisted. “How are you doing?”She turned away, looking out the window again. “
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