He wakes up, blinks his eyes, startled by the sudden burst of lights flooding into his eyes. After his sight adjusts, he realizes it is only the lamps on the ceiling. The rhythm of the machine at the neighboring bed continues since before he was even there.

He sees his daughter by his side. She looks up from her book. He smiles. But strangely, he feels his mouth doesn’t curve to its usual smiling position. But he brushes the thought away, because he has an important question for his daughter.

“Who were you helping?”

“Hmm? I was here since last night. What do you mean?” She looks confused, he thinks, behind his faltering eyesight.

He misses his wife. When was the last time he saw her? Doesn’t she miss him too?

“Your mom hasn’t been here for a long time.”

“She just left an hour ago, remember?”

He doesn’t understand. Tears start rolling from his eyes.

“Where is your brother? Has your sister tell you when she is coming?”

“Brother is working. Sister went to send mom home. She will be here later.

“Memories flash in his eyes but he can’t connect the dots to a timeline. He is not even sure whether those are true.

“Do you want a hot drink?” his daughter asks.

He nods his head. That, he understands. That, he can do.

He calms down as he sees her move around the bed, comforted by the presence of someone familiar. He closes his eyes, welcoming the deep sleep.

4 thoughts on “Blurry

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