This is a work of fiction. I don’t know how many parts there will be. Let’s see, shall we?
A year ago you would have been by my side, snoring softly. I would have gently nudged you and the snoring would have ceased, long enough for me to drift back to sleep. And I’d wake up to your head on my shoulder, somehow you managed to make your way to me every night through your dreams, across the distance of two feet that initially separated us on the bed. I was so content.
Two years ago we would have been talking into the wee hours of the night. That initial phase where you know, you want to spend all of your time with that ‘someone new’. Where being a zombie the next day is something you look forward to. It’s like a battle scar that even two cups of black coffee cannot cure. Ah. New love is bliss.
I’m lying on a hospital bed, trying not to panic. I’m alone. Where are you? I don’t see you as much as I used to. You don’t smile like you did in my company.
But for now, I’m scared. In this big city I’m all alone. The doctors told me to call for someone to sign a consent form. I’ve been hit by a motorcycle and have apparently fractured my ribcage. They want to fix it. I don’t know why it’s not hurting. Maybe the pain is numbing me out.
They decide not to wait any longer and operate. I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, but I can’t feel anything, can’t move anything.
Everything goes black.