please come back

Vincenzo Moreno

Day 3: post operation.

White stark walls moved behind as I was wheeled into ICU: room 4. My system was asleep, with just my ears acknowledging the clomp of feet on the floor, muddled chatters and the squeal the wheelchair had as it rolled on along the tiled floor.

The nurse pushed in the door. My heart throbbed the instant I spotted her. It wasn't good for my recovery, as the doctor had said; I didn't care. I couldn't, not when she was involved.

Something washed over me. Hurt that clawed at my core.

The nurse placed me next to her and left.

I lifted a hand, then placed it on Rina's. My cloudy eyes moved to her face.

It was unbelievable, so much, because I'd thought I'd lost her. Almost pushed to tears, I kissed her hand—my eyes shut tight as I communicated using my mind. We'd converse this way until she recovered.

I cannot believe it: I'm holding you. You are here with me, life and direct. There's so much that's to be said. So much I should let out that I have th