Room 105 \\k.s

Room 105. 6:45 a.m.

He laid there still, with half a heart and a sunken hope. My faith sank down to zero. The sight of him undergoing such an excruciating pain was unbearable. The idea of losing him even worse. I went and sat down beside him and touched his cold hands with my shivering ones, assuming that he was still alive. Shortly, he opened his eyes and looked straight into mine. He touched my face at the corner of my eyes where once the tears had been. He murmured something, what seemed like an apology with his gaze never leaving mine. Oh dear, I wish I could say “It’s fine.” but I seemed to have lost my voice. He held my hands into his and with all the strength left in him, pulled me into his embrace. We stood there like that, not exchanging a word, for what seemed like eternity. My heart skipped a beat.

Soon, I felt things slipping out of my hands. His hands went all cold and pale, his eyes as dead as rocks and his body motionless and numb as the ECG showed a flat line. I wish I could turn back time as I wasn’t yet ready to lose him. I felt his grip on my hands loosen as I let go of his hands. A part of me had died inside. Before my eyes I saw my universe take his last breath as my world plunged into darkness.

I left the hospital and a part of me inside, looked at the corner of the street and saw a banner that read SMOKING KILLS.

I shed a tear.

© Khushi Suneja