The phone rang; the voice on the other end was calm, hesitant. I listened attentively and I fell to pieces. Next thing I knew I was walking down a long corridor with blank walls and floors that were too clean. I couldn’t think. All I could hear was the click – clack of my shoes. I arrived at the reception desk; the young girl pointed me in the right direction. Staring at my faded reflection in the glass, my hand slowly came up and cupped my mouth. My heart felt like it was beating through my skin. Finally I found the strength to open the door, I wanted to turn back, but my body didn’t respond. He wasn’t moving, just lying there, helpless. The heart monitor was beating, he was breathing very slowly. I started to hear myself talking, just about what I did that day. The doctor said he might not be able to hear me. I took his hand; it was soft, warm, like always. I just stared at him, wondering if he was in pain. I whispered softly in his ear I’m not going anywhere. The sound in the room was the slow beats of the heart monitor. His eyes remained closed, but at that very second a tear rolled down his cheek and suddenly I felt my own tears. He could hear me. And then I woke up.