No One Remembered My Birthday—Except A Stranger Who Shouldn’t Have Known
I turn 31 standing under the harsh lights of the med room, unwrapping a sterile gauze pack with fingers that won’t stop cracking from overwashing. My name’s Anna. Brown hair in a messy knot, tired down to the bone. No balloons, no calls. My phone’s dead anyway. I forgot to charge it last night—too busy…
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