I sink into one of the chairs and try to process everything.

Leah. Missing.

Leah. Dying.

It just doesn’t make sense.

She’s young. A force of life so bright at times I found it hard to be around her. I can’t imagine her not in this world. I can’t imagine that she’s si ck or hurting.

Or that she’s been suffering for a long time and I never noticed.

My chest aches and I rub at the center of it.

“I still have to make rounds,” Adam says. “And there is a chance that if Leah left, that maybe she doesn’t want to be found. She might be si ck of all of us.”

I nod.

it, but

so many things

should’ve loved her.

nights wasted. All the days when I purposely kept her at arm’s length. All the times she

kitchen and make my food.

the library, reading one of her

matter how many times I tried to relegate her

she’s

Dying???

I can’t lose her. I can’t let

not physical so much as a wave of grief that floods

the pillow. Beneath the astringent smells of the hospital, I can scent her. That light fragrant smell of her hair that’s partly her shampoo and, beneath that, the unique, elusive scent of

reenters the

what

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