The following week felt like moving through a fog, each step forward revealing more shadows than light.
Mrs. Hammond arrived unscheduled one evening, her face drawn with the kind of worry that lines the edges of uncertainty.
She stood at the reception, her eyes darting between the clock and the door, as if she were expecting something—or someone.
I approached with a calm I didn’t fully feel, offering the kind of smile that was meant to reassure but often failed to do much more than that.
‘Everything alright, Mrs. Hammond?’
She nodded, though the gesture was unconvincing, her hand restless on the counter.
‘Just here to check on Daisy and the pups.’
There was a pause, a hitch in her voice that spoke louder than her words.
‘Of course, come on back.’
The clinic was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigeration unit and the distant ticking of a wall clock.
