At first, I thought it was my imagination.
I pulled away.
“Rosie?”
Her hand twitched again.
Ben leaned over her.
“Rosie, sweetheart?”
Her eyelids fluttered.
A nurse rushed in, then another. Ben and I were pushed back while they checked monitors and called the physician.
Rosie opened her eyes for three seconds.
Her gaze moved past Ben.
It found me.
Her lips parted.
No sound came.
Then her eyes closed again.
But one finger lifted weakly.
She pointed toward Ben’s jacket.
“The paper?” I asked.
Her finger moved once.
Ben searched his pockets.
He removed the photograph, his wallet, the copy of my birth certificate, and finally a small brass key.
