Fiona
The second payment notice arrived on a Tuesday, tucked between takeout menus and a coupon flyer in our mailbox, the kind of envelope I'd learned to recognize immediately by the hospital's return address printed in the corner.
I opened it standing in the hallway of our apartment building, not even waiting until I got inside, some part of me needing to know immediately rather than carry the uncertainty up two flights of stairs.
The number was worse than I expected. Even with the reduced rate the hospital's financial office had arranged for us, even with the small dent I'd already managed to pay down from my extra shifts, the remaining balance felt like it belonged to someone else's life, some other family with resources we simply didn't have.
Due within fifteen days, or the account
