It is a wet, grey evening draining itself into darkness. I get a call. There has been an accident. I sit there. Then I pack.
It is a misty, early morning in Mumbai. As I wipe the fog off my window, I wait to arrive at my stop, unaware of how often and for how long I would be frequenting this journey.
It is the longest walk of my life. The stairs relentlessly show a way up. Visitors, security, nurses, doctors, patients, wheelchairs, stretchers briskly move about. I feel cold.
Aah a familiar face. Another. And yet another. They hustle me inside those large doors that read ICU. I walk. 628. I stare at faces that stare back at me with blank eyes.
This is it. 628 they had said.
*Related posts: Pieces (1), 628 (3), Three walls and a curtain (4)
It’s all going to be good. :)
I am glad you wrote this.
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