SHARPER || Chishiya Alice in Boarderland

-39- so i've been told

I push through the hospital's front doors, stepping into the crisp evening air. The sky has settled into a deep blue, the last traces of sunlight fading behind the buildings. The cold bites at my skin, sharper than before, but I welcome it. It clears my mind, keeps me from sinking too deep into thoughts I shouldn't be having.

My car is parked near the edge of the lot, tucked into the same familiar spot I always leave it. I make my way toward it, exhaling clouds of mist with every breath.

When I slide into the driver's seat, I let my head rest against the headrest for a moment, staring at nothing. The hospital's glow casts long shadows across the lot, and from here, I can still see some of the rooms I visited. The old man in Room 4, probably still flipping through his book. The kid in Room 13, staring at the ceiling, wishing he were anywhere else.

And the last room.

I think about him again. The white-haired man with the dark, unreadable eyes. Chishiya.

I don't know why he lingers in my mind longer than the others. Maybe it's his silence, or the way he looks at people like he's picking them apart piece by piece. Or maybe it's the way he seemed completely unbothered by the fact that a stranger stood in his doorway, watching him like an idiot.

I exhale and reach into the glove compartment, pulling out an old notepad and a pen.

I flip to a blank page and press the tip of the pen against it, the ink bleeding into the paper as I start to write.

_______________________________________

Things to Get:

Room 4 (Elderly man with cast): A new pair of reading glasses. He kept squinting at his book.
Room 6 (Woman who barely touched her meal): A fruit basket. Maybe she's sick of hospital food.
Room 9 (Grumpy guy with the TV remote): Noise-canceling headphones. His roommate snores like a freight train.
Room 13 (Bored kid): A stack of movies. Something good. Maybe classic animated ones.
_______________________________________
I tap the pen against my lip, thinking.

Then, almost absentmindedly, I scribble down a few extras.
_______________________________________
Cherry lollipops. (For fun. Everyone likes cherry, right?)
Burn salve. (For the guy in a coma. I don't know if it'll help, but it feels like something.)
Sketchbook & pencils. (For the white-haired guy. He's going to need to retrain that arm eventually. Even if it's just drawing circles.)
_______________________________________
I stare at the last note a little longer.

I don't know why I wrote it.

I don't even know if he likes drawing. Maybe he'll just stare at the supplies and throw them in the trash. Maybe he'll find it annoying that some stranger assumes he needs help.

But still.

The image of him sitting in that room, staring at nothing, lingers in my head. The way his fingers twitched slightly, the way his expression didn't change but his eyes did—just for a fraction of a second.

I shake my head and cap the pen, tossing it onto the passenger seat along with the notepad.

Outside, the lot is quiet, save for the occasional car rolling past the hospital entrance. I let my head fall back against the seat again, letting the silence settle.

Then, a knock at the window.
I jump slightly before turning.

Kenji.

He leans against the car, his breath misting in the cold, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets. His eyes flick to mine through the glass, questioning.