Brigitte stopped dead in her tracks. The sigh of aggravation she breathed now went low in her throat and sounded more like a growl than she wanted it to. Brigitte tried to pass it off as a clearing of her throat, but it was a stretch. She had been here before; not at the clinic, but at home -- with Ginger. There was no way to count all the times her sister had cornered her when she wanted to know Brigitte’s secrets. Nothing was allowed to be just hers.
“There’s medicine in the cubbies. I need it. I’m sick.” That explanation would be good enough for most people, but if Johanna was anything like Ginger, she wasn’t about to leave well enough alone. Brigitte tried to sell it as best as she could, like she always had before. Her words were clipped, however. She waited a beat before trying to move around Johanna, as if it would be that easy.