I stared at her.
“Was he trying to poison me?”
She paused.
“I can’t tell you his intentions. What I can tell you is that a prescription medication was detected in food you say you were given without your knowledge.”
I felt the room tilt.
The doctor leaned forward.
“Have you consumed any more of that soup since bringing us the sample?”
“Yes.”
“Then I strongly recommend that you receive medical evaluation today. And if you believe you’re being given medication without your consent, you should not return to a situation where you feel unsafe.”
Asentí, pero mi mente estaba en otro lugar.
Daniel.
Mi marido desde hace veintisiete años.
El hombre que me traía café todas las mañanas.
El hombre que me tomó la mano en el funeral de mi madre.
El hombre que había pasado dos meses insistiendo en que comiera hasta la última cucharada de esa extraña sopa oscura.
