"James?' He almost didn't hear her voice. It floated through the dark like an unseen insect, creeping, crawling, silent.
"I'm here." James was at the window. He was at the window often. The hospital was so dreary and sad. He had to have glances of the outside world to keep it from overwhelming him. He hated the hospital. He hated the white walls and the smell of disinfectant. He hated the starchy sheets and the blue tiles on the floors.
He hated that Mary had to be trapped in that place.
"James?" Her voice cracked this time.
He went to her and sat beside her. The bed creaked under his weight. "I'm here, Mary." He brushed the back of his hand along her cheek. She leaned into his touch. He could tell that she craved it. He knew she got lonely.
"I'm so tired." Mary looked towards the window. "Is it snowing yet?"
He sighed. "I couldn't tell. It's too dark outside. The streetlamp went out."
"Oh," she murmured. He kept stroking her cheekbone, hoping to lull her back to sleep. "When will I get to go home?"
Never. "Soon, Mary." James leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Soon."
Writer bits: The prompt for this piece was "blackest night."
