“A maid’s daughter helped an old man every day — until a general suddenly walked in with five military officers…”

But today, something was wrong. She stood in the doorway of room 214. The bed was empty. It wasn’t just empty, it was stripped. The thin white blanket was gone. The sheets were gone. The lumpy pillow Mr. Hank always complained about was gone. A pale vinyl mattress was all that remained. It looked naked and sad. “Mr. Hank,” she whispered. “There was no answer.

The gruff coughing sound he always made when she first entered was missing. The room was silent. Emma’s heart did a strange

little flip. She stepped inside, her sneakers squeaking on the lenolium. The small oatmeal raisin cookie in the bag suddenly felt heavy.