In the Sunlit Bathroom, I Spotted an Odd Patch on My Son’s Scalp, and My Mind Couldn’t Stray Far from It

The night before the appointment stretches long.

The quiet apartment feels even smaller now, as if the walls are closing in.

I check on my son again, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

In sleep, he seems so peaceful, yet the red patch on his scalp tells a different story.

My mind wanders to all the possible outcomes, the scenarios I’ve run through a hundred times.

What if it’s nothing?

What if it’s everything?

“Mom?”

His voice pulls me back, soft and questioning.

“Yeah, honey?”