Light wakes me. Trill's glasses catch a little of it, reflecting over her brown eyes as she says my name, but I don't hear her speak until long after her lips have stopped moving. Makes me giggle, her soundtrack is off.
Giggling hurts.
An old woman joins her, hair tight in a red kerchief though sprigs of steel gray peek out along the edges. She has a very large mole on the end of her chin and I can't stop staring at it.
More giggling. More pain.
Trill's lips move. Time passes. I hear her words: "Is she going to be okay, Nona?" Fear in her voice. Yes, in her face too, as she pulls away her glasses, her brown eyes clear to me.
Another face, this one with vibrant blue eyes, makes me smile. I open my mouth to say "Owen."
And pass out.
***
My body rocks back and forth, something soft under me, daylight streaming in a window over my head. Hand-made quilt, the smell of the outdoors and cooking. The rumble of an engine, wheels over pavement.
Darkness.
***