coma

“Maxine? Wake up, Maxine… you’ve been here all night.”
I opened my eyes. The blank ceiling of the hospital greeted me, still half-asleep on the chair that I’d pulled by Emma’s bed. “Yeah…” I yawned. “So?”
“You do realize that Emma’s not going to wake up for a while, right?”
I gazed over at the bed. Emma’s broken body was laying there soundlessly, her pale skin lined with veins standing out and scattered with all sorts of IVs and tubes and sensors, all trying to keep her hanging onto life until the next surgery date. “Lucia?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re friends with May, right?”
“More like acquaintances.” She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “We haven’t talked in a while. May’s just been really distant lately…”
“I know.” We stood silently for a few agonizing moments, neither of us daring to look back at Emma. “She’d been having this crush on Constance, but I don’t think he was reciprocating…”

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