Christine lay in a hospital. She was in a private room, brightly illuminated by recessed LED panels set into the ceiling, their soft white glow leaving scarcely a shadow behind.
Cream-coloured walls reflected the light, making the room feel open and spotless. She lay in the hospital bed at the center, crisp white sheets tucked beneath the mattress.
Beside it stood a bedside cabinet, a reclining chair for visitors, and a heart monitor that emitted a steady rhythm of green pulses. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, cool and meticulously clean.
Christine's hair fanned out on the pillow as she looked at the man standing by the window. The curtains were parted, giving him a full view of the dark outside world.
"...Honey, thank you for not calling her," she said in a soft voice.
