the friend was trembling, walking restlessly through the room. back and forth.
friend: you almost died last night. they said that it had something to do with the machine that breaths for you, whatever it's called. but i don't believe that. you made your choice, didn't you? you were ready to leave. did you see them? your family?
he talked too fast. he realized that and closed his eyes, his hands clenched together deep inside his coat pockets. he inhaled deeply, trying to control his breathing again.
friend: i know two weeks isn't that long, but it feels like it has been years. i'm not ready to say goodbye, i'm not ready to leave you yet. find a reason good enough to stay here.
he walked over to the window, his hands on the windowsill as he looked outside. it was raining.
friend: of course it's raining, it always rains when something goes wrong or when something bad happened. it was raining that day, too.
he looked at the boy, he seemed to be so peaceful, sleeping soundly. the stitches were gone and had made place for pale scars, surely but slowly his hair was growing back again. he was healing, and yet he didn't wake up. the friend bit his lip in frustration and left the room.
YOU ARE READING
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄
Short Storyan almost decade old story. * "one tragedy changed their lives." a story with dialogues and minimal description, in which a boy ends up in the hospital after a car accident and his friend slowly collapsing under the weight of his tortured mind. but...
