She started down the stairs, but stopped on the landing. She peered out the little window that overlooked the East Arm of Grand Traverse Bay and, beyond that, the Peninsula. Seagulls circled, white angels above the gray world, and she wondered what kept them going.
Her throat hurt. Her right eye had developed a twitch in the last twenty-four hours. And though her breathing was shallow, she fogged the window. Guess I’m alive, after all.
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