Jordan's pov The infusion center had recliners instead of hospital beds, which somebody had probably decided made the whole thing feel less clinical, and my mom sat in hers with a blanket over her legs and an IV line taped into the back of her hand, cracking jokes at the nurse about how the chairs were nicer than anything in our actual living room."I could get used to this," she said. "Might just move in.""Don't even joke," I said, and she reached over and patted my knee like I was the one who needed comforting, which, honestly, in that moment, I probably did.The bag above her chair dripped slow and steady, and I sat there watching it for longer than was probably normal, like staring at it hard enough might make it work faster or better or somehow less than what it actually was, poison measured out carefully enough not to kill her while it tried to kill something worse."You don't have to sit here staring at me the whole time," she said. "Go get a magazine or something. I'm not go
Last Updated : 2026-08-30
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