I find myself standing in a room with one of my closest friends. Who has just finished her check up on another person I am close to.
"'How's he doing?' I ask her.
"He's okay. Still stable. Still out of it. Do you think I gave him too much morphine?" She asks, taking off a pair of white medical gloves.
'You did give him seven doses in a row.'
"Yeah, I guess." She chuckles to himself.
'What?'
"I know he can be a bit accident prone sometimes, but this is ridiculous." I too have a small laugh, something I haven't done in a while. Not since ibitb/i happened. At that, the thoughts of him fill my mind; his looks, terrible humour, his love for me. And then, I'm filled with longing and worry.
"He'll be okay. He's strong.' She reassures. I let out a long, sad, tired sigh.
'Thank you. For caring for him.'
"Of course! He's my friend too."
'Right.' I let out another yawn, this one even sleepier than the last.
"Get some sleep, you need it. I'll wake you if anything changes." I nod to her before laying down, very very tired. It doesn't take me long to fall asleep, albeit a worry filled one.