Fact number five: The word "coma" describes a patient who can't be awoken and whose eyes are closed. The doctors told me that she's in a coma. Vegetative states include diminished consciousness. They didn't tell me she was there yet.
So I kept talking to her. She could hear me, surely. Even if she didn't comprehend what I was saying, even if she was just dreaming this entire time, I was still going to talk. I told her about the things I don't tell my friends. Like how I can't figure out what color to paint the kitchen and how I still can't figure out what major I want to switch to.
My friends just wanted to talk about sports and tell crazy stories. Which is great, don't get me wrong, but they're all back in the city. I didn't really have any good friends here yet.
"I know you probably won't remember this... but I think it's better for you to hear someone's voice. Even if it's a stranger. Even if it's me. It's just... that seems a lot less lonely than the silence of this hospital room."
YOU ARE READING
60 Days of Salt and Sand
Short StoryBeing published September 10th! "She wasn't floating when I found her. She wasn't exactly sinking, either... Just still. Deadly still. At least, I thought she was dead. But then I felt a pulse. And that was enough to get me to fight for her.'
