"It’s just a quick nap. When you wake up, I’ll be right here."
That was the last thing she said before everything went dark.
When I opened my eyes, the ceiling above me was unfamiliar in its stillness; it was too quiet.
I turned my head.
A bouquet sat on the bedside table.
I reached for it.
The moment my fingers brushed the petals, they crumbled, dry and brittle. They fell apart onto the white surface.
My chest tightened.
Fragments of memory flickered: faces, voices, someone laughing, someone crying. My mother. My best friend. The flowers.
“She said she’d be here…”
I looked around.
No one.
No footsteps. No machines. No voices.
“Hello?” My voice came out weak.
"..."
“Nurse?” Louder this time. “Anyone?”
Nothing.
I forced myself out of the bed. My legs trembled as they touched the cold floor.
Step by step, I reached the door.
My hand hovered over the handle.
Then I opened it—