closet.
She walked to Room 214 with her legs shaking.
The door was cracked again.
The television murmured.
Mr. Porter sat in a chair by the window, his back to her.
He seemed asleep.
Emma tiptoed in.
The room smelled like old newspapers and rubbing alcohol.
She reached the bedside table.
It was covered with tissues, medicine cups, and a plastic water pitcher.continue reading …
