You’re in pale blue scrubs this time. Light ricochets off the bleach-white walls as you approach her, holding out a wriggling pink bundle – she takes it, cradling it against her chest, smiling as it wraps wrinkled fingers around one of hers. You open your mouth to congratulate her but reality swallows her whole and she wakes, arms aching with their sudden emptiness. She turns her head on the pillow and sees the black and white blur of her precious little bundle, printed and framed on the bedside table: hands that never uncurled from their clenched fists, eyes that never opened.