Annabelle thought she was ready - until Momma started crying. Then she was crying too, holding Momma's fingers as tight as her little hands could.
"Don't cry, Momma," Annabelle pleaded. "It's okay."
Momma's arms wrapped around her, dodging the tubes and wires with practiced ease. There wasn't a response, Momma was like her in that way: there wasn't any use talking when you couldn't stop crying. Annabelle didn't mind, she held Momma close, smoothing her hair the way Momma used to do for her.
She sent an apologetic smile to the woman at the foot of her bed. The woman smiled back, closing her pearl grey wings as if prepared to wait. She only needed a few more minutes, she only had as much to hold. Then she could go, even though she didn't really want to.