Chapter 4

The cold light from the phone screen cast mottled shadows on my face. The venomous words in the comment section were like dense needles, pricking at the corners of my eyes until they ached. I took a deep breath, turned my phone face down on the table, and walked over to the box of my mother's old belongings. I had left in too much of a hurry back then. Her belongings were hastily stuffed into a cardboard box. Now, spread out on the hotel carpet, they looked like a crumpled old painting. A faded scarf. A chipped cup. As my fingers brushed past a tin box, I felt a hard, papery ball inside. Opening it, I found a yellowed money transfer slip, crumpled at the edges but carefully smoothed out again. The recipient was City Hospital. The amount was just enough for my mother's first dialysis session. The date was three days before she was admitted to the emergency room. At the bottom, in the signature area, a water stain had blurred the writing into a smudge of ink. But the starting strok