The Smallest Patient in the Biggest Room
The pediatric room was bright, spotless, and decorated in cheerful colors.
But nothing could hide the sadness in the little girl’s eyes.
Harper looked so small beneath the blankets.
She clutched an old stuffed rabbit tightly to her chest, its worn fabric nearly faded white.
Graham stopped a few feet away before kneeling.
He didn’t want to scare her.
“Hi, Harper.”
She looked at him carefully.
“Who are you?”
He gave a gentle smile.
“I’m an old friend of your dad.”
Her gaze dropped.
“He’s gone.”
“I know.”
The room fell silent.
Then Harper whispered something so softly Graham almost didn’t catch it.
“He said nobody would ever come for me.”
His chest tightened.
He slowly shook his head.
“Sweetheart, that isn’t true.”
She looked unsure.
“He said nobody would notice if I disappeared.”
Graham leaned forward slightly.
“I noticed.”
“And I didn’t come here by myself.”
