One blink.
Vivian gripped the bed rail.
The doctor stepped aside so I could approach.
Ethan looked at me.
There was recognition in his eyes.
Not the uncertain awareness of a stranger.
Recognition.
“Do you know Clara?” the doctor asked.
One blink.
My throat tightened.
“How?” I whispered.
Ethan moved his hand.
The doctor placed a writing board across his lap.
It took several attempts before Ethan managed to control the pen.
Slowly, shakily, he wrote three words.
SHE HAS IT.
Everyone looked at me.
“Has what?” the doctor asked.
Ethan’s eyes fixed on my closed hand.
I opened my fingers.
The brass key rested in my palm.
The heart monitor accelerated.
Vivian went pale.
“You know what this opens,” I said.
Ethan blinked once.
“Where?”
His hand moved again.
The letters were uneven, but legible.
CENTRAL STATION.
“Grand Central?” I asked.
One blink.
“A locker?”
Another blink.
“Number 314?”
