The fluorescent light was still there. Still humming. Still pressing against his eyelids with that same relentless insistence. Cole lay motionless on the bed, his body heavy, his limbs weighted down by something he couldn't quite identify. The sheets beneath his fingers were crisp and stiff, the same institutional fabric that had been there before. The same antiseptic smell coated his throat with every breath.
He opened his eyes. The ceiling was white, cracked in places, stained with watermarks that had gone unaddressed for years. He blinked slowly, the image swimming in and out of focus. The room was small, its walls painted that same pale green. A single chair sat in the corner, empty. A table beside the bed held a glass of water and a small tray of pills.
Cole tried to sit up. The mus
