Still, I somehow knew he was real. He had to be. He wouldn’t appear twice, uncontrolled by my thoughts, without being real. It just didn’t add up. So where the hell was he? I couldn’t tell. He didn’t have time to tell me back when, because we were too busy being affectionate.

“Jordan? What’s wrong?” the nurse said.

“It’s Aaron. He’s gone,” I managed to muster through the incessant sobbing.

“Who’s Aaron? Your boyfriend?” she said. “Did he really leave you because you’re ill?”

“It’s… a lot more complicated than that,” I said. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, and left me to sob in peace, while not leaving my side. Once I’d managed to calm down, she pointed to the soup. “Here, eat it. You’ll feel better.”

It was painful to eat, but it did make me feel better, as the food gave me something else to think about. However, when I’d finished the soup, my brain again returned to apocalyptic thoughts. Was this going to be my life? Just thinking about the things in front of me, so I wouldn’t descend into depression? It didn’t make much sense.

I spent the day with the physio, mostly distracted from the world, and when the day ended, every single muscle in my body ached. But it was a good kind of pain. I was making progress towards something, even if it was just going back to where I was before I, apparently, nearly died.

This time, I dreamed, but not of Aaron. I dreamed of being out there, of being away from people. I dreamed of the sounds of the sea, and I dreamed of feeling the wind in my hair again, despite wearing short hair forever, given that it was easier to manage amidst the surgeries. I dreamed of being free.

And I woke up in that same pervasive smell, the dim natural light again poking through the window, my legs just as weak as they were before I’d fallen asleep. I managed to sit up, despite my entire core complaining from the intense day of training, and think about what’d happened. Yes, I was truly alone. There was no getting away from that.

At first, I wanted to cry, but somehow, the conscious, cold part of my mind managed to intervene, and logical thinking took precedence over overreactions. Was it really a smart thing to do? Was I really going to lose my entire life because of one man? Obviously not. My parents still needed me. My coworkers definitely needed me. And Aaron, on the off-chance that he was real, also needed me.

My thoughts broke up as the doors opened, and there was Doctor Stromberg, smelling much better than when I’d last seen him. “Morning, Jordan,” he said.

“Morning, Doctor. Come to tell me about what happened in the OR?” I said.

“Yes, I did. Come on, we’ll do it over breakfast. Not good to take that kind of news on an empty stomach,” he said, without ever changing his delivery. He was either completely serious, or moonlighted as a stand-up comedian. I couldn’t tell.

After a short roll, we arrived at the canteen, where they’d served me a much drier breakfast, more in tune with a normal English table, and the one thing I’d been missing all day and night. Coffee.

“How did you know?” I asked one of the workers, not finding the words to express the gratitude for the mug of black liquid that was sitting in front of me.

“You’ve come here so many times,” she said. “We know how much you love it.”

“That’s true,” I said. “Thank you so much. Anyway, Doctor, what is it you want to tell me?”

“During the operation, they put you under, everything was working fine, when, for no discernible reason, your body went haywire. You were twitching like crazy, and your heart came dangerously close to giving out, but they managed to put you in an induced coma, and with your body in a weakened state, complete the surgery,” he said.

“A-ha,” I said. “So they won’t be opening me again?”

“Not until your next scheduled visit,” he said. “Consider yourself lucky.”

So I did almost die. That wasn’t the most comforting of thoughts, but it was what I had to live with, and one death is just like any other. I’d been accustomed to it by now. I had no doubt that the moment I went haywire was the moment that I’d lost consciousness under there.

“What about my brain?” I asked. “Was there anything above the ordinary on the EEG?”

“No,” he said. “You seemed to be fast asleep, and not dreaming.”

What the hell? “Doctor, I know this may seem strange, but while under, I felt conscious. I had control over my thoughts, and I… met? I don’t know how you’d call it, another man. Or, at least, he seemed male and had a male name. In any case, it was a presence, and it was exchanging thoughts with me,” I said.

“Yes, you’ve told us this before. Has anything changed?” he said.

“No, just that presence, none other, and again, nothing on the EEG,” I said.

“Interesting. Do you think there might be some merit talking to a neurologist?” he said.

“Are you even asking this question?” I said. “Of course there is merit. I’m sorry.” I’d realised I’d been a bit too rash.

“It’s alright,” he said. “You’re obviously shaken, and your reactions are not a reflection of your true self. Finish your coffee, I’ll go talk to him, see if he thinks it’s interesting.”

“Interesting? Is that what I am, a guinea pig?” I said.

“No, of course not, excuse my jargon. If he thinks it’s worthy of further observation. Obviously, we’d hate to keep you from living your life by keeping you here if it wasn’t necessary,” he said.

He left me to finish my coffee and let steam out, and returned to the table just as the canteen workers started giving me looks for hogging a table too long.

“He jumped on it,” he said. “He’ll be with you in your room in an hour. That’s all.”

“Thanks, doctor,” I said.

Fucking finally.