I wander through corridors of pain in the stifling hospital heat, sympathetic to the sick person I’ve come from, yet gasping for fresh air.
Then I see her, clad in dressing-gown, sensual attire long since discarded, caught in the raw: beyond make-up, lost in a melancholy world of her own.
Our eyes meet, the remnants of a beauty I knew before who once used to rule my moods. How shallow I am!
“Hello, Guy … look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Her voice is weak, agony-filled.
”I have,” I feel like replying but smile, kiss her cheek instead.