The Dawn will Break

Chapter Four

"That'll be fourteen dollars, please."

The woman behind the counter wore a cardigan. Its sleeves rolled up past her small wrists, freckled with the effects of time. She extended a wrinkled palm.

"I bet these are for someone special, aren't they?" Nodding at the vase of flowers on the counter, she smiled sweetly at Will. Softened by the film of a cloudy cataract, the 1 in her left pupil was otherwise resolute.

Not my time yet, it seemed to say.

"Yes, they are." Will smiled back, reaching into his pocket for the bills to place in her hand. Leaving the gift shop, he walked down a sunny hallway and waited for the elevator doors to open.

It felt like he'd just been here, visiting his dad after surgery. An image of his father, greyer and smaller than he'd ever seen him, flitted through his mind. Shaking his head slightly, Will dislodged the memory. His dad didn't have full strength back yet, but the number in his left pupil shone brighter every morning than it had the day before. He'd be fine, and that was all that mattered.

The elevator was empty. Pressing a button assigned to the fourth floor, Will glanced at the mirrored wall as the doors closed behind him.

The sight of his 2 still made him wince. Its edges were well defined, its color a deep burnished gold. It wasn't how his number looked, but what it represented that sent a slight chill up the back of his neck.

You'll get used to it. It was worth it. Stop overthinking, Will.

The doors shuddered open again and he broke eye contact with the glass. Squaring his shoulders, flowers firm in his grasp, he stepped into the mint-green corridor to search for room 431.

Each step was a flashback.

Skye.

Painted toes under pool water. Hands in Toby's fur. Nose in a book. Lips on his.

Neck snapped on the stair. Soul caught in ether. Spirit traveling in the dark. Eyes open again.

Will shivered. His right palm felt slick against the vase. Rearranging things, he wiped his clammy hand against his shorts. Taking a deep breath, his nostrils filled with the smell of the ward: antiseptic, with a slight hint of all the things cleaners tried to erase.

Scanning doors along the hallway, he soon reached Skye's room. Pausing for a second, he swiped at his hair before peering inside.

She was reading, of course. Dark hair fanned smooth against the pillow, figure clothed in a blue hospital gown, legs covered by a nubby, standard-issue blanket.

"Hey Stormy." His voice came out a little husky so he cleared his throat.

The book dropped softly in her lap.

"Will." Green eyes wide, her expression walked a fine line between happiness and the inexplicable. "I'm so glad you came. Come in!"

"I brought these for you." Leaving the doorway, he handed her the flowers. A warm glow spread up his arm when their fingers touched.

Smelling the bouquet, she smiled. "I love them. Thank you, Will. Could you put them on the ledge over there for me? They'll really brighten things up in here."