At 8:20, Sophie Berger laid the allergy sheet on the counter and said she had already filled in what mattered.
Maya did not answer immediately. In one hand she held Nina’s rabbit, a cream velvet thing with the stuffing gone from one ear; in the other, an oversized needle found at the bottom of the sewing box. Behind the corridor door, the washing machine spun with the sound of a train passing beneath the apartment. Every jolt rattled the cups hanging above the sink.
“Sesame’s off the list,” Sophie added.
Maya pierced the fabric. The needle emerged crooked.
“I see.”
“You see, but you’re making that face.”
Sophie had tied back her hair without brushing it. Her coat was already over her blouse, one sleeve turned up at the wrist, and she checked her phone’s clock every thirty seconds. Nina stood eating bread near the radiator in her socks, despite Maya’s two reminders.
Three lines remained on the printed sheet: *peanut*, *amoxicillin*, *bee and wasp stings*. Beside them, Sophie had added in pen: *no known reaction*. The day before, a fourth line still mentioned sesame with a question mark.
Maya knew why she struggled to let that question mark disappear. Six weeks earlier, Nina had vomited after eating store-bought hummus at the playground. The pediatrician had mentioned a stomach bug going around school. Tests had shown nothing. Sophie had heard: end of story. Maya had heard: no evidence.
She made a second stitch in the rabbit’s ear.
“Did the doctor send you the report?”
Sophie breathed out through her nose.
“To me, yes.”
The answer was precise. Maya looked up.
“I’m asking because daycare might want a copy.”
“They have it.”
“All right.”
“And you don’t need one.”
Nina abandoned her bread to inspect her rabbit. Maya moved the needle away by reflex. The little girl placed both hands on her knees.
“Are you hurting him?”
End of excerpt. Discover the other stories in this universe.