The room was extremely quiet.
The stillness around me was not merely the absence of noise, but the utter absence of life. It was a cold emptiness that pierced deeply into my chest and tugged at it, causing me to feel as if I couldn't breathe. The ventilator, which had provided life to my son, was silent. The incessant whir that had always been present, sustaining my son's life and bridging his world with ours, ceased, and his life did as well.
He had vanished from view entirely.
I sat next to him, gently shaking my hands as I reached them out to his. His hand still felt warm, but I knew in my mind that this warmth would not stay. Soon, after a long time, that warm comfort—his warmth—would fade away until only cold, unfeeling skin was left.
"Elon." I whispered his name, and my voice tre
