The hospital room was so quiet that you could hear the monitor ticking like a clock, marking time, a time that seemed to matter to no one. Michael lay motionless, his face pale, a thin tube in his nose, his chest rising and falling weakly as the machines did the work his body couldn’t. Nurses came and went, some murmuring, others sighing, but none of them seemed interested in the patient in front of them. There were no flowers, no cards, not even a phone call to inquire about his condition.
Once, the doctor asked, “Has anyone come to visit you?” And a nurse replied gently, “They were notified, but they never came.” Time passed slowly; day turned to night, and night to weeks, while Michael remained trapped in his silent prison of unconsciousness. He dreamed of voices. His mother’s soft lullabies, his father’s proud laughter… But these were lies his brain told him while he slept. In reality, his parents had vanished like cowards into the shadows, convinced he would never open his eyes again.
