George walked hesitantly to the bedside. The girl lay in bed, asleep, her face creased with pain. He reached out to brush the hair out of her face, but stopped just short. Touching her would break the spell, bring an end to something he couldn’t quite describe.
He turned his attention to the bedside table. It was covered in simple crayon drawings of a man in red and a green dragon.
“How is she?” a voice from the door asked. George turned slowly to see his mother standing in the doorway, a look of sad concern on her face.
“She’s sleepin’,” George replied quietly. “I think she’s hurting, mom.”
“She is,” his mother said, “but the doctor says there isn’t much we can do about it.”
“I know,” George said.