1.
Delphine's gone. Delphine is only a world away but it feels more like galaxies. Delphine. Frankfurt. More like Frankhurt. Cosima laughs at her own joke. She laughs until she coughs, choking on her own blood. Cosima doesn't laugh after that. Her lungs protest any joy, sneering at the smallest of smiles that form on her lips, They threaten to rattle her ribcage and shake any sense of simplicity from her horizon. Cosima opens a window, staring as far across the open earth as she can. She misses the fresh air. Her nose tube spits oxygen into her body, air that's scented like pure nothing. Empty nothing. It reminds her of death's shadow lurking in the corner of the room. Soon she will be the same. An empty vessel, empty nothing.
2.
The days pass by in a drugged haze. The medications are supposed to heal her pain. It's not the type medicine can heal. The wind sighs outside. A thunderbolt cracks along with one of her ribs. Delphine's angelic appearance in her hallucination slips in with tiny hammers, tapping away her sanity, shattering her glass heart.
3.
Her room seems darker today. The shadows in the room whisper, their words like smoke clouds, polluting the sterile air, eating away the light like ravenous wolves. They're ghosts, she thinks. She glances down at her eerily pale skin. Her veins are like frozen over rivers. Ice cold and unmoving. She traces them lightly, getting to know the routes of her fate. Ice cold and unmoving. Soon she'll join the whispers, another voice in the wind, another soul looking to begin again, another spirit trapped under the frozen water, ice cold and unmoving. A transparent glass. Empty nothing.
4.
Delphine returns to a room as dark as night. She feels chills creep up her spine, where Cosima's fingertips used to trail. She thinks she hears Cosima's voice in the wind as it sighs outside. A thunderbolt cracks along with her heart.