Halos araw-araw, binibisita ko si Von.
Tahimik lang. Walang announcement. Walang paalam sa Montrose family. Just me, my guilt, and a hospital hallway that never seems to change.
Today felt the same. The usual scent of alcohol and antiseptic filled the air. The nurses at the station gave me the usual soft nods as I passed by. Room 417. ICU. Still no change.
I clutched the small thermos I brought—his favorite chamomile tea, though I knew he couldn’t drink it. It was more of a ritual than anything else. A way to talk to him. A way to feel like he could still hear me.
Pero paglapit ko sa pinto ng silid… napatigil ako.
Bukas ang pinto, hindi naka-lock. Maliit lang ang awang, pero sapat na para marinig ko ang isang tinig mula sa loob. Mababang boses, pamilyar. Hindi ako gumalaw. Hindi ako h
