I woke up with a jolt, breath coming down in heaving pants and my body nearly trembling. I could faintly register the warmth of something in my palm, small, delicate, smooth. Shaking my head I adjusted my eyes to the lighting in the room, taking a moment to regain composure, to remember that it was just a nightmare and I was still here sitting next to Chris in her hospital room—the same spot I had occupied in the last 12 days—and that the fullness in my palm was from where my hand held on to hers.
It was a nightmare, just a dream, yet it felt like anything but so. Too real, maybe because that nightmare was a mirror of what my life was right now. It had nearly been two weeks and while her vitals were looking okay, Chris had still not shown any sign of waking up anytime soon, neither the c
