The next morning, a sharp pain in my chest woke me. To my surprise, Keith had not left. He was still sleeping next to me. The pain sent a cold sweat across my forehead, and I curled up on the edge of the bed, shaking, too scared to make a sound that might wake Keith. I had a foggy thought that I might not have much time left. Suddenly, the phone rang again, and Keith, half-asleep, reached out and answered it."Mr. Bradford, your mother's taken a turn for the worse. She's in critical care. You need to come to the treatment room, fast!" Keith did not waste a second. He was up and into his clothes in a flash. I fought through my own pain, grabbed his arm, and blurted out, "Wait, I'm coming too!" He paused, his gaze heavy, but he did not say no. Keith pushed the car to its limits, speeding all the way to the hospital. As we skidded to a halt outside the treatment room, a healer stepped out with a sorrowful shake of his head. "It's time to say your goodbyes," he said softly.
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