"Dad's going to kill me! I'm already late!" I screamed as I scrambled out the flower shop holding a bouquet of roses.

I tried my best to hold onto everything at once; the bouquet, my books, and my bag. My efforts were futile as everything dropped one by one. I juggled the items and eventually came to the conclusion that nothing was working.

I tried stuffing the books into my bag, despite the drastic weight change and urged myself that this would work, when in fact, I looked comical waddling down the street.

Many people started to stare but I couldn't have cared less. I just knew that I was about to get an earful from my father when I got there.

I finally arrived at the hospital and I urgently asked two nurses who were striding down the hallway, joking with each other about their complaints towards their husbands, about a person named Mrs. Kim.

They immediately paused their conversation and sloppily pointed to a room on the left side of the hallway.

I quickly thanked them, shuffled to the door, and tried to fix my hair and clothes to look a little presentable.

I wouldn't want my father thinking that I was running down the street carelessly avoiding all stop signs and green lights.

I almost got into two accidents on the way here but that's not important at the moment.

I breathed in as I opened the door of the room, holding the bouquet of roses with a bright smile on my face, and joyfully screamed, "Happy Birthday Mom!"

My eyes were squinted at this point, in fear of my father's relentless screams, and when I didn't hear a single word come from my father or my mother's mouth, I opened one eye expecting to see a scowl from both.

I was utterly shocked to see a boy who looked to be about my age, staring out the window in solitude. It almost looked as if he was in a painting, one of those scenes of a lost angel looking for something that was once his.

Now wasn't the time to be poetic and I quickly snapped back to reality and just as I was about to close the door in a rush, the boy turned his head to face me.

I was mesmerized by his eyes. They were chestnut brown and had a soft glow to them.

His skin looked as if he hadn't been out in the sunlight for quite awhile, causing him to look pale enough to the point where it seemed natural for him.

He was dressed in white, hospital clothes of course, but he wore them as if they were his everyday clothes. I couldn't quite place my finger on it but this seemed like a scene I had seen in a movie before and it annoyed me a little that I couldn't get it right away.

I quickly tossed that thought aside and focused on the reality of what was happening now and scanned the rest of the setting.

It was a plain, boring room; white walls, two chairs for visitors, the window opened, and the curtains pushed aside.

I didn't have much time to observe everything but that was the gist of what I caught during those few seconds.

He blankly stared at me, words unspoken.

I waved my hand at him, as a friendly gesture, a way of understanding what this boy was like.

He glared at the sight of my motion and this discouraged me greatly.

"Excuse me, I think this is the wrong room. I-I'll just go." I grimly said as I pointed out the door.

I gave one final wave of goodbye and closed the door behind me.

What was his problem?

He didn't seem too friendly and he gave off an unpleasant vibe.

His features were angelic but his attitude spoke differently.

I assumed my mother's room was probably the room next to it, so I calmly opened the door and peeked my head around the corner just to make sure.

I saw my mother's face but she was so engaged in a conversation with my dad that she didn't notice my presence.

I held the bouquet behind my back and gleefully started singing, "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear umma, happy birthday to you!"

I stopped right in front of her bed with such perfect timing, presented the flowers to her and bent down to place a kiss on her cheek.

She had such a huge smile on her face, it was heartwarming to see it and it made me forget about the coldhearted guy in the other room.

After the celebratory greetings were over, my father harshly interrogated me about why I was late.

This was the perfect opportunity to tell them about how I had gotten lost searching for the right room, who I had just met, and it was altogether a perfect excuse.

My father easily accepted it and I was at ease knowing that I had gotten away with it.

The three of us spent the rest of the night together, laughing joyfully at all the corny jokes my dad pulled on my mom, sharing slices of cake with one another, and watching my mother open the presents my father and I had gotten her.

She became ecstatic at the expensive watch and the 24 nail polish set we had gotten her. It was inspirational witnessing my mother like that.

It had been such a long time since all of us really sat down and spent time with one another that I almost forgot what it was like.

My dad was always busy traveling abroad, I was busy with studies of course, and my mother had been in the hospital for about 3 weeks now, recuperating her broken leg.

It wasn't much of a story how my mother came to be like this. It wasn't really serious, just severe enough to have a cast placed on her leg and staying in the hospital for further therapy.

The hospital's closing hours were coming to a near and I hurriedly tried to clean everything up so my mother wouldn't have to do it. It also saved the nurses from doing it as well.

My dad was the first to leave since he had to answer an important call and meet someone at a nearby cafe.

I sat down next to my mom, held her hands, and rubbed them while saying, "I can't wait until you finally get to leave this boring place."

She countered, "It's not as bad. At dawn, there's this boy who sings a song about the mockingbirds. I think he's in the room next to me."

That cold, nasty-hearted boy?

It couldn't be. Sure he had looks equivalent to a rose garden but I wouldn't have imagined that he had the passion to sing every morning.

I didn't want to talk about him anymore and I wanted to let my mother rest so she could get out of the hospital faster, so I kissed her goodnight and wished her a 'Happy Birthday' once more.

She slowly drifted off to sleep and I softly closed the door behind me.

I walked towards the main entrance and I saw the same boy, sitting in one of the chairs looking out the door. He was the only patient and alone, except for the nurse by the main desk.

She slightly bowed her head and said goodnight and I did the same.

My attention was back on this boy and I suddenly had the urge to try saying something again.

I don't know what got into me but it was as if I wasn't even controlling my own body anymore.

"Hi, it's a nice night out isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know, I'm not standing outside am I?" he sarcastically retorted.

He sure had a mouth on him. "I guess not," I said.

I struggled to find the right words to say. Usually, I wouldn't have a problem keeping up a conversation with a stranger but this was different.

He just seemed so pessimistic that I eventually found it difficult to bring up a simple topic with him.

He ended up speaking first and it wasn't sarcastic, nor cynical. It was a question that he seemed very eager to know.

"Are you coming back here tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes, I am. Why?" I was confused at his question. Why would he care in the first place?

"I always see you coming here from my window. It's been a couple weeks now. Who are you visiting?"

"My mother," I replied. "She broke her leg a couple weeks ago and has to stay here for recovery. I just want to know how she's doing everyday so I try my best to come here. Actually it was her birthday today."

He slightly chuckled.

He actually did something other than frown. I felt somewhat accomplished.

Maybe there was a cute side to this boy and maybe it took some time for him to warm up.

I didn't find myself struggling any longer and the conversation just flowed out. I wanted to know when he was going to leave and if he had been here the same amount of time my mother has since he knows I've been visiting her.

I was shocked when he said that he had been in the hospital for about 5 years now so that's how he was able to know about my frequent visits.

"I usually know everyone that comes around here. It never changes. The same people are always here and if there's an emergency, people are usually gone the next couple of days," he explained. "The visitors don't stay long either, only for a couple hours maybe and that's about it."

I felt sympathetic towards him but my heart broke after he answered my question.

"When are you getting out?" I carelessly whispered.

"After I die," he said while staring out the door.

It was a nonchalant statement, haunting even.

Something about him caught my attention at this point and changed my impression on him.

This wasn't the attitude of a jerk, it was merely a veiled desire. It was the wish to leave this world as soon as possible and it upset me to see that.

A spark rose within me but I realized it was time to leave and the hospital was about to close.

I made an effort to reassure him that when I come tomorrow, I'll visit him as well.

For the first time, he managed to give me such a full and pure smile, docile enough to tug those heartstrings of mine.