Dawn Goodwin

Anxiety sucked the moisture from her mouth.

lies in the bed, still, too still. A chill passes through me. I take a step forward, press up to the glass. Then I hear the whir of the machine, see the hospital-issue blanket rise and fall. I exhale again too.

The kids were teenagers now though and it felt like the grown-ups were trying too hard to hang onto their rapidly fading youth when they were actually bone tired, intolerant of too much noise, and wanted to be at home watching The Great Pottery Throwdown in their slippers

Lisa looked at her watch. Ben was late. He had said when he’d left for work that morning that he would meet her at the school, that he had a light day for a change, only one short appointment in the afternoon, and then he would be home after a detour to the gym.

She was a married mother of two and this was just the annual school quiz night, where the fish and chips were delivered with a sizable portion of parental guilt.