“I’m Juniper,” she said softly, warmth spreading up her neck as she settled into the vinyl chair beside the bed. She watched Mrs. Sorrin adjusting her hospital bracelet with familiar resignation - clearly not her first time here.

“All this fuss over nothing,” Mrs. Sorrin sighed, gesturing to the monitors. “I just needed my prescription refilled. The pharmacy’s only three blocks away.”

She leaned forward conspiratorially, her silver hair falling slightly across her forehead. “But Mrs. Chen next door saw me stumble getting out of the car and suddenly there were sirens everywhere.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, reminding Juniper so much of Daniel it made her chest tighten.

The hours slipped by as Mrs. Sorrin shared stories, her hands moving animatedly despite the IV line. She told Juniper about young Daniel insisting on making her breakfast in bed every Sunday, burning toast for months until he finally got it right. About him falling asleep in law school textbooks at the kitchen table, determined to make something of himself.

With each story, Mrs. Sorrin would reach out to pat Juniper’s hand resting on the bed rail, her touch warm and motherly, as if sharing these memories was helping her feel closer to Daniel even in his absence.