“It’s Just a Knee,” My Mother Said as They Changed My Appointment—The Cost of That Decision Shocked Them

to you in my will. I promise.”

I read it twice. The old Morgan wavered. But then I remembered the twenty dollars on the hospital table. I walked to the kitchenette sink, took out my lighter, lit the corner of the letter, and watched it burn. I watched the words “I love you” turn into ash and curl into the drain. I washed the ash away with water.

I didn’t continue reading …