It felt like summer when she and Nathaniel York lived together, asking him to buy a watermelon, a large one that was cut open. She held half a watermelon, bigger than her own head, with a spoon, scooping and scooping until only a watermelon rind was left.
Now, her feeling was just like that. Someone was holding a spoon, hollowing out her heart, spoonful by spoonful, leaving a hole that couldn't be filled no matter what.
Matilda Jenkins felt so cold that she wrapped herself tightly in the quilt.
This was the hospital. The hospital's quilt carried a strong scent of disinfectant, very unpleasant. Matilda involuntarily thought of Nathaniel York's scent. It was fresh, pleasant, with a hint of mint. She also remembered the warmth of his body.
At night, he always clung to her, holding her tight, and while he was around, she never felt there was anything special about the days.
