Minutes earlier.
Estelle wheeled herself toward the drawer, slower this time, the soft creak of the chair echoing faintly in the quiet room. The air felt thicker here, like the walls were holding their breath with her. She stopped just in front of it and for a moment, she did nothing.
Then she closed her eyes and drew in a deep, steady breath, her fingers curling slightly against her lap. When she opened them again, there was something sharper in her gaze. Resolve, curiosity, and maybe fear.
She lifted a trembling hand and the drawer slid open with a soft, wooden scrape. She pushed aside its contents carefully, fabric, paper, small forgotten things, until her fingers stopped.
There it was, the button. Small. Unassuming. Almost ordinary.
