Not that morning.
People moved through her room sorting practical things.
Hospice supplies.
Medication.
Clothes.
Linens.
Daniel picked up the blue pillow.
“This thing is falling apart.”
He moved toward a trash bag.
I stood so quickly the chair tipped.
“Not that.”
Everyone looked at me.
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
“She gave it to me.”
“The pillow?”
“Yes.”
Leah looked at the stained fabric.
“Nora, why?”
“I don’t know.”
Marcus shrugged.
“Then keep it.”
Daniel handed it over.
Leah said:
“I’d burn it.”
I ignored her.
That evening, after everyone left, I carried the pillow to the kitchen.
Ethan sat across from me.
“Do you think she hid something in it?”
I looked at him.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because Mom never did anything without a reason.”
I touched the torn seam.
“She might have just liked it.”
“She hated that pillow.”
“What?”
“She complained about it every week.”
