He grabbed his worn denim jacket from the back of the chair.

The fabric was damp from the rain outside.

“I’m going to talk to her.”

“Please be careful,” I said, reaching out to grab his sleeve.

“I will,” he said, kissing my forehead.

His lips were cold and dry.

“Stay with Sam. Don’t let them take him out of this room.”

I watched him walk out of the room, his tall frame disappearing into the brightly lit hospital corridor.

I sat back down in the vinyl chair.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to stop the shivering.

Outside, the rain continued to pelt the windowpane.

The sky was a uniform, dull gray that offered no hope of clearing.

I watched Sam’s chest rise and fall.

The heart monitor beeped, a regular, mocking rhythm.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty.

My phone, sitting on the bedside table, suddenly vibrated against the hard plastic.

The screen lit up with a text message from an unknown number.

I reached out with a trembling hand and picked it up.

The message was short.