Chapter 13
Mikhail returned to his small apartment that night, exhausted. The city lights had largely faded, and the noise of the streets was slowly dying down. As he opened the door and entered, his shoulders were slightly slouched, as if the burden of the day was still weighing on his back.
He closed the door, took off his coat and hung it on the hanger. He placed the stethoscope on the table, and took off the ID card hanging from his neck and threw it aside. He took off his shoes and put them aside and stood silently for a while, as if his mind was still in the hospital.
The face of the old woman in a coma kept appearing in his mind. That calm face, that small chest rising and falling, the steady sound of the machine—everything seemed to still ring in his ears.
He slowly entered the
