The ICU room was a blur of shadows and sharp, clinical light.
Arthur was removing his mask again, his eyes wide as if searching for someone who wasn't there. Sarah rushed in, her hands firm on his shoulders.
"Stay with us, Arthur! Don’t let go!"
The alarms spiked, then slowly settled as she restored the oxygen. Arthur lay still, his breath shallow and uneven.
""I can't see her anymore," he whispered, his voice a ghost of a sound. "She used to be right there, in the corner, waiting. But the light is fading, Sarah. It’s taking her with it.""
Sarah sat with him, the soft hum of the monitor the only sound. "She's not in the shadows, Arthur. she's in the light that's still here. In every breath you take."