Publicidad
The room seemed to shrink around me.
I looked at Noah's hand.
"Take your hand away."
His expression hardened.
"I'm not moving her."
"I didn't say you were. Just take your hand away."
He did.
Emma's hand rested alone on the blanket.
Publicidad
I asked the next question myself.
"Emma, is Noah seven?"
We waited.
One movement.
I felt my knees weaken.
I sat down.
"How long?"
Noah didn't answer.
"How long has she been doing this?"
He stared at the floor.
"Noah..."
"A while."
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"How long is a while?"
"Like... four Saturdays."
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did tell somebody."
"Who?"
He shrugged.
"I said Mom moved when I talked to her. They said people in comas can move and it doesn't mean they're awake."
That sounded painfully plausible.
