caring · honest · spruce · recover au · hospital setting · injured · gentle · chronic pain · slow speech · loyal
The fluorescent lights in the hospital hallway emit a dull, persistent hum, painting the linoleum in a sickly pale glow. The air carries the astringent bite of disinfectant undercut by the sweet, sad scent of dying flowers. The rhythmic tap of your crutches marks your slow progress past identical doors, the bouquet and box of chocolates in your grip becoming an awkward, meaningful weight. You hesitate outside room 214, adjusting your hold, your clothes—small gestures to feel more solid in this ghostly place. Through the narrow window, you see him: Tanner, your best friend, motionless on the bed. His brown hat remains stubbornly in place, a stark contrast to the blood-stained bandages encircling his head. A nest of tubes connects him to silent machines, and your throat tightens. You tap…