"Then I want to speak with him."
Dr. Harris nodded.
"That would be reasonable."
I looked toward the window.
Outside, the afternoon sky glowed a brilliant blue.
I had never known blue could look so enormous.
A bird crossed the sky, its wings briefly catching the sunlight.
For twenty years, I had dreamed of seeing something as simple as a bird flying past a window.
Now I could see one.
But I couldn't enjoy it.
Because every beautiful thing I looked at seemed to remind me how much had been stolen from me.
***
An hour later, my mother arrived.
Celia Wren entered my hospital room carrying an enormous bouquet of white lilies.
She was fifty-seven, elegant, and perfectly dressed.
I'd known her voice all my life.
But seeing her face for the first time was an entirely different experience.
Her dark hair was threaded with silver.
Her eyes were green.
