It was the fuel she ran on. The validation that her sacrifice meant something.
“We need to go,” Ethan said, checking his watch. “Help me get her to the car? The walker is stuck on the rug again.”
It took ten minutes to move Doris twenty feet. She shuffled, moaned, and leaned her entire weight on the metal frame of the walker, scratching the hardwood floor with every step. By the time they got her into the passenger seat, Claire was sweating.
“Bye, Mom,” Claire waved.
Doris stared blankly through the window, drool pooling at the corner of her mouth.
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