It was summer when she finally awakened. Slowly, she felt her senses returning and a fog lifting someplace below her brain and between her heart. Her legs, arms, hands, and feet began to twitch a bit from unuse and the snap-fizz of returning energy. She opened her eyes to find herself in a quiet hospital room, light shining pleasantly through a nearby open window. Somewhere, birds were singing and cars buzzed along the streets below. From where she lay, she could only see clouds and sunlight and a few trailing leaves from a tree outside.
For a moment, she couldn't do anything but stare. Her focus scanned the room - the quiet TV against the wall, the broken-in chair next to her bed, the bedside table with a chart laying innocently on top. She realized she couldn't move - her arms tucked tightly at her sides beneath blankets. In moments, she realized she was also bandaged.
She wiggled a bit and freed one of her arms so she could pull back the covers. Looking down, she saw her mid-section bandaged tightly with crisp, tan bandages. She reached up, felt her head. Her head was wrapped tightly as well. Puzzled, she continued to look around.
What had happened? Where in the hell was she? She felt an ache that seemed to possess her entire body, but it hurt most above her eyes someplace between them and her brain. As she gained consciousness, the pain increased.
She tried to speak, hear her own voice that morning only to find it was muffled and sore. She lay flatly in wonderment without knowing exactly how she had arrived in this position or how serious her situation at the moment was.
How can such a beautiful day hurt so much? How can such a wonderful morning feel so empty, foreign, and cold?
She hoped dearly to find out.
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