I sit on the hospital bed, staring at the glass wall as evening settles over the city.
The sun dips low on the horizon, its final light spilling across the sky in streaks of orange and gold, fading into soft lavender. The buildings beyond the window catch the dying light, their windows flashing like scattered jewels before darkness claims them.
Night creeps in—slow, patient—wrapping the world in deepening shadows.
It's been days.
Days of lying here, staring at the flawless white ceiling, memorizing every empty detail.
Days of watching the light shift across the glass wall—from the pale gold of morning to the harsh white of noon, to this… this quiet, melancholy glow of evening that makes everything feel temporary.
Days of counting the hours between visits, the minutes between messages… the seconds that stretch into something endless when I'm alone with my thoughts.
Angel left.
