The hospital room smelled strongly of antiseptic and new paint, an ugly green color that was probably intended to lighten the room,
but really just made it look like someone had been sick all over the walls. There was an attached bathroom and a small T.
V up in the corner placed so it could be seen clearly wherever you were the room.
It was easy to notice these details, to study them, to remember them. It was so much easier than looking at the broken body of the man that once was my lover and is now just a friend.
James once held so much life and spunk that the person in front of him wasn't recognizable as the same man. The bruises and bandages littering his body didn't help.
“Thank you, Frankie.” James looked so pathetic wrapped in tubes and machines, so pale, even against the white of the Hospital’s sheets. “You didn't have to come.
You said this would happen and I didn't listen to you.”
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