The Right Thing To Do
“I need a doctor,” Matilda mumbled as she weakly reached out of bed for her phone. She called Bret, barely able to explain everything. She also called downstairs for a cab and the location of the nearest hospital.
Bret burst into her room. Worry and anxiety covered his face. “Mom,” he screamed, lunging for Matilda. Did she look that bad, or was he being dramatic?