My partner lies sleeping just a few feet away. Plastic tubes and wires imprison him. Crisp, white bandages obscure the flesh I long to touch. Chemical cocktails keep those green eyes shuttered.
I long to reach out and enfold him, but I daren't. He wouldn't know I was there, but they would see us. I know I must not let our secret out, so I must learn the lessons he has taught, put on his mask, and hope.
My partner lies sleeping just a few feet away, and all I can do is wait.
They wonder why I hate hospitals.