How are YOU feeling? (Edit)He hadn’t meant to pull the catheter out – he was confused. Wincing, Jacob flexed his medical-tape bound hand before wiping the sweat up from his forehead and back over the baldness where his hair should’ve been. In an attempted to forget the pain, he concentrated on the over-bed desk where a number of booklets lay, most crisp and unopened. One had a bent cover, the only one that had been looked at. It was green and white, and the yellow light glared off it. MacMillan asks “How are YOU feeling?”
A bright spark erupted outside his window with a bang, and when the confetti light faded, he watched his reflection in the glass. During the day, there was nothing to see except the occasional bird that perched on the outer windowsill. Since the number of visitors had dwindled until the only one to remain was his mum, he smiled and allowed himself to relax, pretending that they had come just for him. Sometimes he would wake to a large raven strutt