Even as my mind screams at me to go back upstairs, to stay at his side for just a few more hours, my heart knows it would hurt too badly. I pause downstairs, opening a couple kitchen drawers quietly until I come across a notepad and a handful of pens. I scribble quickly as I notice headlights approaching outside, my hand shaking slightly with indecision:

It was good to see you.

I’ll miss you.

Sorry for sneaking out, but I guess I’ve got to go back to real life.

Your Sunshine x

Chapter Three

January

Ellis

Every morning when I wake up there is a second of peace. Where I am not in pain, where I don’t have to make decisions. There’s a split second where my only problem is getting out of my toasty bed when I know it is going to be cold. That’s when I remember everything else. The hundred things I have to do, for my business, for my son. The list is never-ending. Then I have to assess my pain: will I be able to go about my life with my baseline problems, or will I have to dose up on painkillers and hand over a bunch of responsibilities to my employee and friend Lyndsey?

This morning I am pleasantly surprised. My bones click as I stretch but there is no thundering pain in my joints or blinding burning in my muscles. Well, no more than usual. Still, just like every day for the past few weeks my full night’s sleep hasn’t been enough.

Pushing myself out of the bed, sliding my feet into the nearest pair of socks to warm them up, I trudge to the bathroom. Dodging kids’ toys and a selection of rubber ducks, I flip on the shower head. I have a little bit of time before I have to wake Jack up; my kid can sleep like the dead. It’s handy when there are things I want to get on with in the morning, but a nightmare when I need him to be up for kindergarten. I started setting my own alarm even earlier to accommodate his tossing and turning and refusal to wake up into my routine.