it scraped the linoleum.
“Clara?” He came to her side, awkward with worry, and took her hand. “What happened? Did you fall?”
“I’m dying, Hank.”
He blinked at her. “What?”
“I’m dying. I know I am.” She pressed her palm to her belly and tried to breathe through the panic. “I keep getting these pains. My back, my stomach. I can barely walk. Something’s wrong continue reading …