Part 1: The Envelope
“Sally, wait!”
I heard the voice behind me, but I kept walking.
Stopping meant another sympathetic face. Another hand squeezing my shoulder. Another person speaking Mark’s name in that careful, softened tone people used around a woman who was eight months pregnant and had just lost her husband.
“Sally, please.”
This time, I stopped.
Dr. Rivers was coming down the hospital hallway toward me. He looked exhausted, as if the last few days had weighed on him too. In one hand, he held a plain white envelope.
When he reached me, he hesitated.
