I was discharged from the hospital. My parents called, “We’re at the shopping mall preparing for your sister’s birthday.

So I sat outside under the pale Kentucky sky, one hand resting over the bandage beneath my sweater, trying not to wince every time I shifted.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.

Then my phone rang.

It was my mother.

Relief came too quickly. “Hi… are you close?” I asked.

Her voice was bright, distracted. “Sweetheart, we’re at Brookside Mall.”