Dmitry strode through the garage to the hospital elevator and pushed the down button. As the elevator went down, his heart followed. His emotions were a jumble, his body one raw nerve.
He stepped out into the hospital lobby and realized he didn’t know his father’s room number. He took a crumpled paper from his pocket and texted his mother.
She texted back with the number, and he stopped at a reception desk to ask directions.
His father’s room was in the ICU in a wing separated from the rest of the hospital. The illuminated signs for the ICU had blocky blue letters, and he turned corner after corner, following them to his final destination.
As he rounded the last corner into a dimly lit corridor, his mother emerged from the shadows, an apparition floating on air. Her long flowing dress
