I sneakily broke a flower off the hospital’s wreath. I kept laughing and having to bow my head to hide it. The midsummer sunlight was blindingly bright. I knocked on the hospital room door, but there was no reply. I knocked again. No one was there. It was only full of a very quiet darkness.
I left the hospital room. I had met her here when I was bored and stifled and pushing my wheelchair like crazy up and down the hallway. She had appeared so suddenly that I barely had time to stop, and there she stood, a girl with her hair tied up in a ponytail. When I left the hospital I saw a bench. I remembered we had listened to music together and drawn, sitting there. I was still holding the wildflower in my hand, there was no one to give it to.