The fluorescent lights caught in Jim's water glass as Rory adjusted it on his bedside table, her fingers lingering longer than necessary on its cool surface. The construction crew's voices drifted in from the hallway, a rough harmony of concern wrapped in attempted normalcy.
"You don't have to hover," Jim said softly, his voice still raw from the breathing tubes. "I'm not going anywhere."
"I'm not hovering." She straightened a blanket that didn't need straightening. "I'm being efficiently concerned."
That earned her a ghost of his old smile. "Is that what they're calling it now?"
Before she could answer, Kenneth appeared in the doorway, his work boots leaving faint dusty prints on the pristine floor. He carried a rolled set of blueprints under one arm.
"If you're done pre……
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