Like gelotanous globs, his eyes are stuck partially open by the edema. She stares at the figure. The swollen man’s head has purple tinged ears. Blood stains the sheets.

The words of the surgeon echo distantly in her head; “he is stable.”

She slinks to the bathroom for refuge, and a figure with sunken cheeks and blood red eyes reflects in the mirror.

She wonders if the man with coarse leathery hands will ever hold hers delicately again. But a claw grips her heart like a vice.


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