I stood in the middle of the kitchen, phone in hand, staring at the wall without really seeing her. A single thought circled in my head, refusing to be expressed.
It wasn't that I had given her the gift that scared her.
She was afraid someone had eaten it.
Two hours later, Laura called.
She was crying so much that at first I couldn't understand anything. Only sobs, ragged breathing, and children's voices in the background, frightened, weak.
"Dorothy..." she finally managed to say. "We're at the hospital."
The world around me felt like cotton wool.
"What's wrong with the children?"
"They got sick last night. Vomiting... weakness... the doctors say it's food poisoning."
I sank into a chair.
The words "food poisoning" and "children" shouldn't go together. They don't fit in the same sentence without everything inside me starting to break.
"Você comeu... doce?" Minha voz soou como se fosse de outra pessoa.
Laura soluçou.
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