I’m not sure if I’m awake or asleep. I want to move, to turn over, but my legs feel like they weigh at least six hundred pounds. Then I’m trying to run, but I can’t pick up my lead legs, and someone is chasing me, but I can’t see their face. They’re getting closer and closer to me, and all of a sudden, my legs turn into water and I drift down myself, a river flowing away from my pursuer.

I listen to the water, and then I’m awake, no longer flowing, but stuck in my bed in my hospital room.

I move my arm to look at my watch: 8:36 a.m. It’s a Sunday. I’ve been in the hospital for two weeks. I’m so happy to be awake long enough to move my arm that I become giddy. I play with the buttons on my watch, find one that makes the screen light up so I can see what time it is, day it is, even in the dark. I lift up my blanket over my head, push the button, and even under there I can see that it’s now 8:39 a.m. And it’s still Sunday. It’s cozy under the blanket, and it makes me think of the forts I make with Randy. I close my eyes. Just for a second.