Under the thin hospital blanket, I can feel the rubbery plastic NG tube in my nose. I feel my scars, my slow heartbeat, my shallow breathing. My roommate is restless. I want to be home, not in this prison of pea-green walls and psychiatrists and doctors and dietitians. My roommate and I are both awake. We are both longing for normal.
As the night begins to fade, the cars and the people are waking up. The sun is rising, and the light spreads across the city, the buildings casting shadows onto the roads. The cars are cold, the engines are not yet warm enough to provide the protection against the bitter winter wind.