I was standing in line at the pharmacy when a woman said, «you look just like my sister.» I smiled politely. She added, «she went missing 25 years ago.» I laughed nervously and said, «what was her name?» She stared at me and said, «your name.» The bottle dropped from my hand…

I made myself tea with honey, hoping it would help my throat. As I waited for the water to boil, my phone rang. Mom’s face appeared on the screen, smiling in that photo I’d taken at her birthday dinner last year.

Morning, sweetie, she said when I answered. How are you feeling? Like someone filled my head with concrete, I croaked. Did you call the doctor? You know how you get with sinus infections.

Remember that time in high school when you let it go too long and ended up with pneumonia? I did remember. Mom had stayed home from work for three days, making me soup and forcing me to drink what felt like gallons of water. She’d slept on a chair in my room because she was worried about my breathing.

I’ll go to the walk-in clinic. I promised. Good.

Oh, and don’t forget about Emma’s wedding next month. Aunt Karen called yesterday to make sure you got the invitation. You know how she gets about RSVPs.

Emma was my cousin, Aunt Karen’s daughter. We’d grown up together, spending summers at the coast, building sandcastles and searching for shells. The Thompson family was small but close.

Just my parents, Aunt Karen and Uncle Bill, and their two kids. My grandparents had all passed before I was born, which I’d always thought was sad. No stories about Grandma’s cookies or Grandpa’s war tales like other kids had.

After I hung up with Mom, I took a shower, threw on my dad’s old University of Oregon sweatshirt and some jeans, and headed to the walk-in clinic. The doctor confirmed what I already knew. Sinus infection.

She sent me off with a prescription for antibiotics and instructions to rest. The rain had picked up by the time I left the clinic. I sat in my Honda Civic for a moment, debating whether to fill the prescription now or just go home and sleep.

Responsibility won. The Walgreens on Northwest 23rd was only five minutes away. I found a parking spot right in front, which felt like a small miracle.

Inside, the pharmacy was busy but not packed. An elderly man was arguing about insurance coverage. A young mom was juggling a toddler and a prescription bag.

Normal Tuesday afternoon stuff. I handed my prescription to the pharmacy tech, a kid who looked about 12 but was probably in college. 20 minutes, he said without looking up…