Capitolo VIII

The room was different when we got to the hospital to see my father. Unlike mine, the walls were mahogany, the room dim and the curtains blue. The bed was larger, looked comfier, and the beeping was more subtle and thin, and quiet.

There were fresh flowers on top of the desk on the foot of the hospital bed—an arrangement of sunflowers and blood red roses. Although the room had been upgraded, it seemed that the person lying in it had worsened.

He had gotten thinner, the wrinkles that were once barely there are now deep and refined. His cheekbones look higher and more hollow. The timely glow he used to have was replaced with paleness. I almost didn't recognize my own father.

From what the doctor told me, he has yet to improve over the month he's been medically comatose. Doctor Cody, the doctor, told me that he stil