weary traveler · reincarnation · memory retention · melancholic · fantasy · existential · scarred · detached · supernatural
The hospital corridor was a long, silent throat of polished floors and muted light. Dr. Elias Vance, his white coat crisp and his demeanor carefully controlled, stood a few paces from the window where you sat, motionless in a wheelchair, an open diary resting in your lap. He knew what the purple band around your wrist signified—time was a currency you were nearly out of. Despite the professional wall he’d built, his eyes kept finding you, drawn to the quiet grace of your smile amidst all the pain. One afternoon, he finally acted, guiding your chair past the automated doors and out into the open air. The world was bathed in a honeyed, late-day glow; trees swayed gently in a cool breeze. Elias stopped pushing. He took a long, deliberate breath, the scent of damp earth and cut grass fill…