Quinn
Some more time passed in silence until my mom appeared in the doorway of the hospital room. Her tiny frame took up hardly any space. In her hands she clutched two thermos flasks. She’d brought chicken soup; I just knew it. Mom thought everything could be fixed with chicken soup. That and hot chocolate. Mom was an awesome cook, so she probably wasn’t wrong.
“You are both awake!” she said, her grey eyes bright with happiness. “I brought you some chicken soup.”
Called it!
“Hi mom, thank you. You always did say it had healing powers!” I smiled at her.
“Oh yes!” She placed the soup down and wrung her hands together. “I’m sorry about Amos. He didn’t used to be that bad.” She looked away.
“I find it hard to believe he was much of a father to you.” Anger clawed at me when I thought of
