Chapter 8

Every morning at seven sharp, Anker appeared at my bedside. Sunlight dappled his exhausted profile. "Good morning, my sleeping beauty." His fingers brushed my still face. "I brought your favorite Earl Grey mille crepe today. I queued for forty minutes. When you wake up, let's buy the whole store, okay? Then you can always have the freshest." The me on the bed remained motionless, lashes casting faint shadows on pale cheeks. The spirit floating above only sneered. Who cares about your stupid cake? Grandpa's trust fund could buy me every patisserie in the state. Every Wednesday at three PM, Mrs. Ford arrived for her ‘routine counsel'. "Dr. Miller mentioned this morning that if there are no signs of awakening within three months for a vegetative patient, the chances of recovery plummet…" Anker was meticulously trimming my nails, handling them like priceless porcelain. "Mother," he didn't look up, "shall I have security escort you out?" Charlotte chimed in smoothly. "Anker, I'm wil