21
Blinds on the window split the sunlight into thin bands that fell upon a hospital bed, but otherwise the room was dim. The same sounds you always heard in a place like this filled the air: a strange, non-localized whirring, people's footsteps in the hallway, muffled voices and the occasional beep.
Arthur Hunter sat in a wheelchair with hands resting on his knees, frowning into his own lap. Today, he wore blue jeans and a gray sweater with the hood pulled back. “What is taking so long?” he muttered.
Jack let out an exasperated sigh.
His mother stood at the window with her back turned, peeking through the blinds at the scenery outside. “They're just working on your discharge papers. We'll be on our way soon.”
Arthur was unsatisfied, and he showed it by casting a glare in his son's di
