(Amelia)
The second ambulance brought a woman my own age who'd gone through a windshield. We worked her for an hour and she lived, and that was the kind of thing that used to be enough to carry me home lighter than I came. That day it wasn't. Emilia's voice stayed with me through every suture and order, that easy certainty in it. *We'll see.* Like my whole life was a thing she could pick back up whenever she wanted it.
By the time my shift ended, the light was going gray outside the windows. I sat in my car in the garage for a while before I turned the key. I didn't want to go home. Home was a word that had never quite fit the house, and now there was a woman in it who fit better than I ever had.
But I couldn't sit in a parking garage forever, so I drove.
The house was bright again whe
