The Biker Who Became Her Angel

“And if she’s not stable enough?”

The nurse looked away. “Then she’ll die here. Alone.”

I stood outside room 432 for a full minute before I could make myself go in. I’ve read to dying kids before. It never gets easier. But a kid dying completely alone? That was a new kind of hell.

I knocked softly and pushed open the door. “Hey there, I’m Mike. I’m here to read you a story if you’d like.”

The little girl in the bed turned to look at me. She had the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen. Her hair was gone from chemo. Her skin had that grayish tone that means the body is struggling. But she smiled when she saw me.

“You’re really big,” she said. Her voice was small and raspy.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” I held up the book I’d brought. “I’ve got a story about a giraffe who learns to dance. Want to hear it?”

She nodded. So I sat down in the chair next to her bed and started reading.