LOGAN
"Mr. Black?" he inquired, his voice muffled but clear.
"Yes. How is he?" I asked, the words catching slightly in my throat.
"The surgery was successful in stabilizing him, but he's not out of the woods yet. The next 24 hours are critical."
I nodded, absorbing the information. "Can I see him?"
"Only for a moment. He's in recovery."
Following the doctor down the sterile corridor, the beeping of monitors grew louder, each sound a testament to the fragility of life.
I stood outside his room, running a hand through my hair, more out of habit than nerves. I wasn’t nervous. No. I didn’t do nervous. I did detached. I did composed. I did sarcastic indifference because it fit better than whatever emotion was currently clawing at my ribcage.
The nurse had given me the green light after
