My heart stopped when I first looked at him. He didn’t look back. I blinked. It was real. All I could hear was beeping and the faint voices of two people talking in the distance. My lungs got heavy and it became harder to breathe. My hands turned gelid and shivers went up my arms. I felt a tingle in my throat, an itch in my eye. I swallowed. My cold and sweaty hand reached shakily for the handle of the see-through door and slid it open as I stepped inside the small, white, uninviting room. The windows must not have been opened for a long time asand the dense air mixed with hand sanitizer hit me. I took four steps forward and leaned over the bed. I tried my best to avoid his face as I reached for his unconscious hand. My fingers were frigid andfrigid as I intertwined them with his. It felt different than ever before. I squeezed his hand but he didn’t squeeze it back. My hand was shaking,; his was calm. I gasped for breath and my vision got hazy as I realized the realness of the situation. My eyes were bleary, longing, anguished. With my lips trembling, I carefully rested my head on his chest covered with a blue-whiteblue and white forget-me-not patterned hospital gown, my favorite. A tiny drop of liquid rolled down the side of my dejected face and fell onto his heart.