Carrie-Ann
The third-floor hallway in the hospital was always cold. Sometimes I liked pretending I was racing the AC breeze coming from the vents—pushing my wheelchair just a little faster and letting my hair move behind me.
But today, I only rolled slowly. My legs still hurt, my head felt heavy, and my stomach was weirdly empty even though I’d eaten corn porridge that morning.
I just wanted to take a walk.
Sometimes walking around makes everything feel slower. Quieter. Especially when the TV in the room next to mine keeps shouting about whatever show they’re watching.
I passed the playroom. The door was open a crack. I heard kids laughing, toys hitting the floor. I didn’t go in. Crowded rooms make my head spin when I’m not feeling well.
I kept going toward the end of the hallway… un
