The Man Who Entered Our Bedroom at 1:13 Every Night

Just no.

She gave a tiny shrug that made the IV line shift. “Breast cancer.”

I think I said “No” out loud then because Pete looked at me.

Karen pulled her shirt down farther. Slow. She showed me the top of a scar, red and puckered, disappearing under the fabric. Then she covered herself again.

“I had surgery in July.”

My mouth went dry.

July.

In July I’d continue reading …