The late afternoon sunlight slanted through the hospital blinds, painting pale golden bars across Jim's bed. The steady beep of the heart monitor was an anchor, a metronome, marking time in a way none of them were ready to acknowledge.
Jim's fingers still hovered over the fretboard of an invisible guitar, twitching like the ghost of a melody was trying to claw its way out. His eyes were red-rimmed, but dry now, staring at nothing.
Rory sat beside him, her own hands folded over her abdomen as if she could will herself into feeling something other than hollow. The silence stretched between them, filled with everything they wanted to say and couldn’t.
Sunny broke first. She stood from her chair in the corner, bracelets jingling, and crossed the room in three quick strides. “Alright,” she s
