Exhausted, Sebastian sat beside her, clutching her lifeless hand in his own. Her skin was cold and clear, as if she were made of marble. He couldn’t, wouldn’t leave her side. At any moment she might wake up. At any moment she might return to him. “It takes time,” Angela Crenshaw whispered as she came over to check Marie’s vitals for the third time that hour. “But she’ll wake up?” Sebastian queried hopefully. He already knew that there were no finite answers but he just couldn’t help searching for them. He needed something to cling on to, some hopeful statistic to anchor him during his darker moments. “I-” Angela looked away from him, focusing on the thermometer she was placing in Marie’s ear. “You don’t know,” Sebastian sighed, answering for her. “No one does.” “Exactly,” Angela nodded sadly.
