The temperature felt colder than the past days so Mr Prescott had his thick blue knee length jacket on him when he briskly strode towards Jane’s bed and picked up the brown voyager duffle bag; it was that type of flexible foldable duffle which is quite hard to carry, but the man pulled all the weight in his hand at once without much effort.

I was laid back in bed with an intravenous catheter in my arm, waiting for my fluid bag to dry up to a quarter while I secretly stole glances, anticipating to see what the fourteen year old’s reaction would be.

“No no no papa... I am not done” Jane rebelled with her hands daring her Father’s grip around the handle wrap. Mr Prescott hesitated to let go of the bag “Sweetheart you...” He cut himself short in realisation that someone was still in the room “Need to be quick with that” His jade eyes briefly glanced toward my direction, burying some hints of displeasure in them. He roughly sent me both a faint smile and a head nod which I honored, by returning the gesture, and then he loosened his grip on the duffle bag.

“I know” Jane looked absolutely chuffed about the idea of going home for a few days, though she had begun to tick her time away still doing the same thing.

I think Mr Prescott and I had a similar kind of thought when we both stared at Jane. He possibly also wondered how much longer she’d take to get done with packing; it was obvious that the blonde little lady’s OCD was at work, which explained why she was taking eternity to round up, and her Father seemed to be losing his patience.

The still young looking Father went back and sat on the chair opposite Jane’s bed. He relaxed his back on the foam and tried to bury his irritated face inside the magazine cover. I had always admired Mr Prescott’s love for his daughter. He may come off as an impatient man, but without doubt, he was a responsible and loving Father to Jane. I considered him to be far better than my Father who hardly find time to visit me. My Mother spent nothing more than two hours when she visited me as she needed to work and cater for my medical bills. In such aspects where most Father’s would do their best to solve financial crisis, my Father was not much of a help to us since he divorced my Mother and remarried another woman. I had to work part time jobs to pay my college fee before my illness fully manifested and forced me into a redundant life.

With my free hand, I was holding my tablet, still on page 4 of John Green’s paper towns. As I was not much of an avid reader, staying at the hospital bored me to the point that I hardly had other ways to wipe away my time without the help of books.

It took roughly about thirty five more minutes of an exasperating wait for Jane’s Father, before she finally concluded and allowed him to have the bag.

“Bye Lex” Jane waved

“Keep yourself warm” Jane’s Father hardly smiled as he said that to me

I waved at them with my own forced smile before they exited, and then I quickly went back to reading.

Tick

Tick

Before I knew it, some movements slowly manifested in my ears. I turned and saw nurse Amber in the room, struggling with the silver trolley beside Jane’s bed.

“Hi” I said, intending to at least acknowledge her presence.

“Oh hi Alexis. You were engrossed in reading when I walked in. Sorry my movements still interrupted you”

“No its fine” I shrugged, and she smiled and pulled the trolley behind her while she walked toward me “Let’s check the progress of this” She bent and touched the fluid bag gently “Almost there, but we can take it off now so you can have lunch”

“Yes please” I supported the idea.

Amber detached the drip from my catheter professionally.

As soon as she had left, I got out of bed and tried to stretch my legs a little bit as I walked passed Jane’s bed to the end of the wall where Fouza’s empty bed was standing. Her family came to fetch her for the holidays before Jane’s dad showed up. I was also expecting my Mother to come for me soon.

I went back to my bed and sat down, still feeling some pain inside my chest. My eyes lowered down to my new purplish patch on the surface of my arm; the expected side effect of blood thinning medication was becoming visible on my skin. A slight bruise. A shiver instantly ran inside me and I started feeling the effects of the cold temperature.

Winter was setting in.

I looked over to the glass window, the curtain was still rolled up so I progressed to the window to unleash the thick fabric but my eyes fell on the scenery outside. It had been a while since I stood by the window. Something strangely lit up inside my heart when I looked outside.

As I gazed out into the miles, I witnessed a breathtaking beautiful moment. Like some small fluffy feathers drizzling down from the sky, the first set of snowflakes came falling to my eyes. I could imagine how icy the air would feel, and what the feeling of those snowflakes could be on my bare skin.

Suddenly, memories of my childhood; mostly of how I used to make a snowman with my Mother, crossed into my mind and made me cringed to the idea of doing such at 21 years of my age. I felt as though it were a childish thing to do.

When the thoughts slowly faded out of my memory, I noticed a standing figure of a man stretching his hands sideways to their different directions. He was facing the sky and allowing the snowflakes to fall on his skin, doing the exact thoughts that came into my mind. As though he had felt someone’s eyes peering at him, his face lowered to bring his eyes directly on our window. My heart stopped working in that second when I captured his face.

He was as flawlessly beautiful as the first snow.