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Summary
Luz rushed to the bathroom down the hall while balancing her phone in one hand. Her thumb quivered as she dialled 9-1-1.
She wretched open the medicine cabinet. The phone slipped from her grasp and clattered in the sink. A tinny voice from the other end asked, “911, what is your emergency?”
Luz snatched her phone up. She slotted it into the crook of her neck. A bottle of aspirin almost leapt out of her hands as she selected it.
“My—” Luz choked. All these years, and still the word slithered out of her throat. “My husband is having a heart attack. I think.”
