My Husband Took My Fingerprint While I Was Sedated

I woke to the sharp, sterile smell of antiseptic. Bleach and alcohol mixing with something else I couldn’t quite place.

Grief, maybe. Loss has a smell, I think. Metallic and empty.

The fluorescent lights above my hospital bed felt cruelly bright. Too harsh. Too alive for a room where something had just died.

My body felt hollow. Not tired, not sore—just continue reading …