Waking: Infirmary
A drabble of 100 words
By December21st
Elizabeth woke. The last thing she remembered was an explosion. Thunder, acrid smoke, blaring alarms. John's desperate reassurances as he carried her to safety. Then nothing. Now she could see two hands covering her own, barely visible in the soft light of the infirmary. The larger hand was John's, a plain gold band safely where she had placed it over two years ago. The smaller hand was Kit's, faint traces of bright yellow rub-on daisies decorating her tiny fingernails. Although he was sleeping, John firmly held their daughter. Kit carefully reached her hand out to touch Elizabeth's cheek and smiled.