Talia needed a break. Not a vacation, not a spa retreat — just a breath. A moment without fluorescent lights, without charts and side effects, without the sterile smell of hospitals. Her sister Nora had called it “a healing day,” but Talia had rolled her eyes at that.
Still, she had agreed. It was just a short outing — a hike through the old woods behind their grandfather’s cabin, where the trees leaned close together and the ground was soft with needles. Nora packed a light lunch. Talia packed her medications and emergency inhaler, like always. The air was crisp but not cold. Her joints ached, but less than usual. That felt like a win.