DORIS
I walked down the hospital corridor, feeling pretty good.
I’m over the jet lag from the return trip from Italy, but I still have the high from the adventure.
As I listen to my heels click on the clean linoleum floor. I’m happy with how the week has gone so far, although I haven’t seen Arthur.
I made over 100 calls about real estate, and I signed a contract selling a small studio apartment on the upper Westside.
I saw Mia twice, although just for a few minutes each time. Mia couldn’t stop talking about our Italy trip. One afternoon, we sang a Frank Sinatra song in front of the mirror, and I found myself wishing that Mia would be my daughter forever.
As I approached the door to Noah’s hospital room, the huge black nurse was exiting.
"How’s Noah doing?" I asked.
"Good," the nu
