He awoke again without opening his eyes, it was warm, as always, the faint cooling puffs of the AC on his face keeping his temperature at acceptable levels.
Breathe in.
The pungent antiseptic sting hits his nose, a warmer mustier smell sits underneath.
Breathe out.
The beep-beep of the machine next to his bed chimes its constant metronomic beat in time to the sounds of the ward. A snatched conversation bustles past the door as two doctors discuss a patient.
They carry on further down the corridor, their voices eventually drowned by the metal jangle of cutlery and food tins being placed on trolleys.
Lunchtime soon.
Further still the nurses are changing shift, the cheerful the staff nurse Rose greets her co-workers, her pleasant Filipino twang carries up the corridor to his ears.
Breathe in.
Footsteps click-clacking in the distance, they stop briefly. Too loud to be one of the nurses, a visitor most likely. Maybe for him?
Breathe out.
A gentle creeping heat seeps into the room as the sun breaks through the cloud cover to warm his face, the window is suddenly a magnifying glass, heating him more and more.
The inside of his eyelids burn a deep pink-red as he is slowly bathed in sunlight.
Rose will probably come in a moment, she'll drop the white metal blinds, they'll make their familiar rattle-clatter as they fall.
Then she'll swivel the thing at the end so the blinds tilt down, allowing forty five degree slats of light to peek through. Then with a smile she'll say;
"Sun too bright for you, that's better now."
She'll plump his pillows
Breathe in.
He knows he is on one of the upper floors, he tries to remember which one, or even how many floors this place has. He can't.
If he opened his eyes, he would see that he is too high to be able to view the trees and gardens below without standing and leaving his bed to come to the window.
Shame they don't open.
He wonders briefly if it is because of suicide or accident. Or perhaps both.
Small beads of sweat start to form just under his hairline and on the side of his nose where his glasses would normally sit.
Breathe out.
He imagines the sound of fluttering wings outside the window. The little white pigeon flies over the park and swoops down on its fellows scraping for crumbs.
Breathe in.
The shrill cry of a toddler being yanked from the swings by his mother rings out causing the pigeons to scatter upwards in a noise of feathers and cooing.
Sighs and muttered curses under her breath from the mother as the child attempts to scream down assistance from the Gods themselves.
She pulls a face as the struggling infant manages to kick the pram over whilst she attempts to secure him.
Breathe out.
Six floors below him a baby is born in a delivery room, the father watches as the child squirms in the midwife's arms.
His mouth remains open, his eyes stare unblinking at the bloody infant.
Breathe in.
The father cuts the cord and turns to look at his wife, she seems to glow. They clean the baby and place her on the mother's bare chest.
Breathe out.
An old man dies.
Cryptogee
More Flash Fiction from Cryptogee