Berlin,1943

morning

Leo.

"Is there still any chance?"I asked.

"Not that I know of.It might take a while until you can get out of bed."

It was February. The windows were fogged,and outside the hospital the pavements were covered with a thin layer of frost. I Eyed the passersbys who walked past, all in oversized,weathered coats and scarves draped around their necks. If you looked closer you could notice the faded colours from once beautiful hues now gone, their wooden clogs  that made a galloping noise whenever it came into contact with the floor could be heard through the window. Inside the room was all plain white tiles that stretched across the entire room. The mirror was still there, as if reminding me of how much time I had left, like an hourglass.

The hourglass reflected the truth.

It reflected reality.

I was afraid of Reality.

I was also afraid of love.

Love can be cruel,unforgivable.

Love can be beautiful yet terrible.

Love can stretch you to a breaking point.

Love can shatter you.

Love can leave scars of regret.

But I loved him.

I really did.

But it was a forbidden love.

The secrecy and intimacy of each touch.

The urgency and clandestineness of each word we exchanged.

The passionate glance we gave to each other.

I missed him.

Armand was seated at the foot of the bed, leaning against the wall.