When Danny had miraculously reappeared at their kitchen table, everything spun into fast motion. The inventor in her refused to believe this was the only way, just as much as the mother rebelled at the idea of her son undergoing surgery a second time. "Of course, but… Maybe there are other options. It's his surgery, he ought to be in the know." "I want to talk to this surgeon first, before the meeting with Danny." Clean jumpsuits lay waiting on the bed, hers blue, his a warm, bright orange that took up half the mattress.
"Let's get there early," she told Jack from the doorway of the bathroom as he pulled on an undershirt. She stepped out of the tub and reached for a towel, pushing her wet hair back with an impatient flick it had grown far past her preferred style, tickling her neck and brushing against her shoulders. He hadn't been able to tell them what had caused the injury to his hand, but it had left its mark. Goosebumps crawled across her exposed skin. When they'd first mentioned going under the knife, Danny had turned gray. Danny's hand, whether surgery would help. They were meeting with the doctors this afternoon to discuss options. "Yes dear," Maddie said absently as she shut off the tap, though it could have been ice cold for all she noticed. As the pain that can be told is but half a pain, so the pity that questions has little healing in its touch.
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