Alice and Jessie stood on the corner of 6th and Sloane, staring at the shop in the distance. The sun hung low in the sky, dark yellow light splashing across their backs and everything before them, and despite the lack of clouds the air was freezing cold.

Alice shivered and squeezed her big sister's hand. "I'm cold."

"I know," Jessie said distantly, squeezing back. "I am, too." She adjusted her thin coat and winced when the wind snuck under and stabbed her belly. So cold. They were always so cold.

Always.

"Can we make it?" Alice whispered.

Jessie glanced at her watch. "It's 5:37:34, right now." She looked down at her sister. "I think we can do it, but I'll have to carry you to the store. Is that okay?"

Alice bit her lip nervously and nodded, spreading her arms as though asking for a hug. Jessie scooped her up in her arms, the little girl's head resting gently against her shoulder, and jogged down the sidewalk.

They had to get back home before six o'clock, before one of them died.

Normally, neither Alice nor Jessie would have dared venture out this close to 6, but their mother, their wonderful, funny mother, was slowly dying. She would've been fine, but the medicine the doctor had given her had run out long, long ago, and now she could barely move. She couldn't work, couldn't cook, couldn't even stay awake long enough to talk. She was helpless.

That was why Jessie was risking her life and that of five-year-old Alice that night: she'd found the prescription slips in her mother's room the night before, enough to last the next year and a half. Enough to bring their mother back.

Jessie paused on the sidewalk, panting, and looked around. The pharmacy was just twenty feet away, right across the street. Her free hand slid into her back pants pocket, and sighed, relieved. The slips were still there. She put the hand back on Alice and hugged her tightly as they crossed the street.

A blast of warm air greeted them in the pharmacy, and Jessie felt Alice shudder and moan as the heat washed away the ice crystals in their blood.

Jessie stood there, in front of the door, basking in the warmth, then remembered her purpose. She put Alice down, carefully, and checked her watch.

5:41:26 Less than nineteen minutes left.

The pharmacist, an old man with a face like a petrified prune, stared at Jessie as she slapped the prescriptions on the table. She stared right back, waiting for him to crack and say something.

Seconds passed.

The man snorted, took the pink slips and turned to process them.

Jessie sighed. People.

Alice scooted up close to Jessie, laying her head against the older girl's hip. Jessie placed a hand on her head and stroked her hair, gently. Her foot began to tap against the linoleum floor anxiously, every tick and tock of her watch echoing in her head. This was taking too long.

The pharmacist came back, gave both girls a sneer, and handed Jessie a blue paper sack and a receipt; insurance took care of this particular medication, so no money was passed.

Jessie didn't bother thanking the man, and left.

5:50:48

Jessie's mouth went dry when she saw the time.

"Are we gonna make it?" Alice asked.

Jessie snapped out of it. "If we run, we'll make it." She put the bag of drugs under her coat and zipped it up. "I'll have to carry you again."

"My shoe's untied," Alice complained.

"I can't tie it right now." She picked the little girl up. "Let's go."

"'kay."

Jessie ran this time, her ragged sneakers slapping loudly against the sidewalk, breath growing short the further she went. She was hunched over, trying to keep hold of little Alice and the medicine at the same time, nearly losing both but recovering quickly. She wouldn't let this whole trip be for nothing!

Soon the house was in sight, and Jessie had to restrain herself; she desperately wanted to vomit whenever she saw her house on the outside. It reeked of malice and darkness, a blatant hatred that Jessie had never understood but knew despised her family.

Her father had been their only warning: he'd stepped out for a minute, and then he was dead.

Time of death, according to the coroner: 6:00 PM.

Jessie slowed a bit to check the time:
5:58:49 One minute and eleven seconds left. Jessie dashed forward, desperate to cover the last thirty feet.

"We're gonna make it, Alice, we're gonna make it, c'mon, we're gonna make it…" she panted. Almost there, almost there…

Then the bag slid out of Jessie's grasp , bounced off her knee, and landed on the front lawn.

"Jessie!" Alice screamed. "The pills!"

"Forget them!" Jessie took three long leaps, landed on the welcome mat, and drew her key from her jacket.

Just as she got the door open Alice wiggled out of Jessie's grasp and ran across the lawn.

Jessie, with the door open, one foot already inside, stood frozen.

The little girl was already on her way back, the bag held tightly to her chest, gasping and puffing, her eyes wide with fright.

"ALICE! Hurry!" Jessie screamed, holding her arms out. "Come on!"

5:59:55

Alice leaped—

5:59:68

—Jessie screamed—

5:59:93

—Alice crashed into her sister, knocking her onto the floor, the bag pressed against both their chests. Her unlaced shoe bounced twice and landed with a smack outside.

6:00:00

Jessie and Alice turned their heads and watched, breathless, as bright light sparked around the shoe as it sizzled, burning. Yellow smoke shot from it in streamers until it was nothing but a pile of gray ash, already being whisked away by the wind.

Jessie closed the door with her foot, looked at Alice, and hugged her, laughing.

7:12:29

Jessie watched, happy, as her mother, fully conscious for the first time in weeks, played "Go Fish" with Alice.

Despite the house, things would be better.

Much better.