Author’s Note: To keep my creative mind sharp, I’ve taken to writing flash fiction (with the word count limit not strictly implemented. hehe) whenever I get some free time during hospital work and especially during duties. Here’s one of the products of one of my benign ORL duties. :) 

I know he’s here.

No, I can’t see him, but I feel his presence. I can always feel his presence.

I try to sit normally, but I can’t keep still. My hands are trembling and my fingers are constantly fumbling around for something to hold, something to grasp. My heart is a thundering mess, an animal wanting to be free of the cage that is my chest.

He’s here. He’s really here. He’s making his way around the room, desperately looking for something, for someone, for me. 

Or at least, the me I used to be.

Our eyes meet and I dare keep my gaze on him, dare allow him to see.

But he doesn’t see. What he’s looking for isn’t here. Who he’s looking for isn’t me.

Not anymore. 


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