Days passed, and I slowly began to feel strong once more. The physical wounds healed yet the mental scars stayed. I still did not remember much, and the little bits that came to light resemble puzzle pieces without a picture.
One afternoon, Paul returned while I was asleep. This time he had a woman, most likely a nurse or caregiver, with him. They stealthily entered the room, and the woman began methodically and precisely going over my vital signs.
Paul sat once more, his piercing clarity completely focused on me. "How are you feeling right now?"
"Better," I responded, trying to exude more confidence than I felt. Still weak, but the suffering is becoming diminished.
Paul nodded and said, "That's good to hear". I have dealt with officials here. Although they are trying to piece together
