I Was In A Coma. My Sister Tried To Take Control Of My Medical Decisions

of doing well.”

He smiled faintly. “That is usually when healing starts telling the truth.”

I looked back at the courthouse.

My sister was leaving through a side exit. My mother was still on the steps, holding her unread letter. My father stood near the curb, hands in his coat pockets, waiting to see whether I needed help without assuming I did.

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