The room smelled like lavender and something clinical underneath it that no amount of lavender fully covered. A single lamp burned on the nightstand instead of the overhead light, and the machines against the wall had been turned so their screens faced away from the bed, someone's small mercy. Her grandmother lay propped against a bank of pillows that looked too soft for a woman who'd never allowed herself anything soft in Arianne's presence before, an IV line taped to the back of one hand, her hair braided back by someone who'd taken real care over it. Arianne closed the door behind her and crossed to the chair already pulled up beside the bed, someone else's arrangement, not hers. Her grandmother looked up when the door moved. For a second neither of them said anything. Arianne had pictured this moment several ways on the drive out. None of them involved sitting down first.
"Arianne." Only her name, and nothing else.
