One - Rooftop smoking

In her very last seconds she’ll remember him, even if all she can see is white.

Junhwe lay in the curtained cubical examining the bland polystyrene tiled ceiling. There was nothing else to look at. He could hear moans from an adjacent bed and that at least made him glad for the curtains, it meant he didn't have to engage with whoever it was, to show any kind of sympathy he didn't feel.


[;]

Mina peered from the bed before letting her head fall heavily on the pillow. It was like that every visitor time. All of the others had families, friends, nice food and bouquets of flowers. Mina got disappointment served cold on a cheap plastic plate with a warm brew of tea.
She hadn't been able to enjoy any good food in a while since her cirrhosis had emerged. Her hands were frailty and caution, shaking gently as she reached for the hot tea.

“Nurse, how long before you knock me out with my daily round of morphine or better yet when does my donor organ arrive?”- She mutters against the rim of the mug of tea.

“Give it until quarter to ten, Mina.”–the nurse looks at her watch, eyeing her with a grin in turn

“Mmh you're avoiding my real question. You're my nurse you should know better” – she tuts, wagging her side to side her words dripped with slight amusement

“Would you say another year or so before you get a donor?” She teases

“That's what you said last year and the year before, should I go on or?”

“I'm kidding; you're top on the list for the next liver transplant. So no more wasting your precious youth of yours away in this forgotten paediatric ward.”

“Oh look at the time, it's already a quarter to ten, guess it's time.”–her nurse walks close to the monitor at Mina side before pressing a few buttons as the machine roars to life, releasing the drugs through the tubes that ran into her bloodstream.

“Now, take some rest, before the morphine kicks in. I don't want to hear that you are giving the other nurse trouble.”

[;]

It's around midnight when Junhwe decides to sneak out of cubical and onto the rooftop.

His feet scurry as fast as could to the gurney, escaping from the coldness of the tile floor that seeped through the paper slippers that he wore. The night gown lapel dragging against the