Monday, April 2, 9:52 a.m.
I sit in a rickety folding chair not too close to Jack’s hospital bed. I’m feeling disoriented. I’m not sure where I am.
Jack is very still. His eyes are closed. There are tears on his lashes.
“Jack?” I say. “Are you okay?”
His heart monitor beeps. He’s alive. But is he about to wink out of existence? Am I?
“Jack?” I say.
He opens his eyes. He looks at me. I’m still not sure where I am. He opens his mouth to say something.
“You’re still here?”
It’s a flat female voice, toneless and without inflection. I turn and see Lucy in the doorway. She’s dressed all in black, which gives me no clues. Beneath her eyes are sooty smudges that could be either eyeliner or dark circles from a sleepless night. Where am I?
“You have to leave now,” she says coldly. “You’re gonna make him have another heart attack.”