The 100-Day Goodbye
"Ten percent, Evelyn. Maybe fifteen if your heart stays strong through the first cycle. It won't cure you. But it could buy you an extra year. Maybe two."
"An extra year," Arthur repeated, the words sounding massive in the quiet library. He walked over to the side of the sofa, looking down at her. "Evelyn, a year is... we can do a lot in a year."
"A year of hospitals, Arthur," Evelyn said, her voice dropping to a whisper. She looked at her palette of paints sitting on the side table, the fresh blues and grays she had only just started to use. "A year of nausea and machines. I spent three years being a ghost in this house. I don't want to spend my last days being a ghost in a clinic in Switze
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