“Well don’t just sit there starin’, may as well get on with the damn thing,” she said. Her voice sounded like gravel crunching underfoot.

I looked away, then back to her, sorry written all over my face.

“Don’t do that either. And don’t you damn say it. It is what it is.” She held her chin up high and stretched out her left arm.

I flinched as I jabbed the needle into the bend of her elbow. It should’ve been me, I thought.