Her husband emerges from their bedroom. “When are you going to remember I exist?”
“We had an emergency. A little girl…”
He locks the bedroom door behind him.
She sighs and walks to the empty room at the end of the hallway. Their little girl’s picture smiles on top of the otherwise empty desk. The doctor lies in the tiny bed and whispers in the cold pillow.
“That girl went back to her family this morning.” She buries her tears in the pillow.