Simon wandered through the halls of the familiar building, running his fingers along the sterile, white walls, as the alarms in the back of his head faded into the quiet of a well-staffed hospital. The tiles made comforting clicking noises under his polished, black shoes as he drifted down the long, strait path.

At the end of the hall he could see a glowing, red sign that read ‘emergency’, and a ghostly smile played in the corners of his eyes, a glimmer of relief grazing his soul. He was home. Finally, he was back where he truly belonged.

He found his pace quickening. He wanted to get to that room, to run his fingers along all of the soothing gadgets that had made life so easy for him, that he had spent so many years of his life learning to use.

He reached the door and stretched out a hand to push it open, but then stopped with his palm pressed against the cool, serene metal. He thought he heard a little sigh, like someone was already in the room. Barely breathing, he moved closer to the door and peered through the window.

River, in a hospital gown, was sitting on the bed. She was looking straight at him, and he could clearly hear her soft whisper.

“Playground school bell rings again. Rain clouds come to play again.” Her eyes were wide and innocent: the one thing that had scared him most about her condition. She didn’t even seem to know that there was something wrong with her.

He fell back from the glass—startled—and found himself in the company of a frantic nurse, unidentifiable because of the mask she wore over her face to protect her from potentially dangerous germs. She grabbed his arm and dragged him down a side hallway.

“Has no one told you she’s not breathing?” The nurse quipped, a strange, metallic pitch in her voice. Before Simon could ask whom, she pushed him into a room.

Confused, but still acutely aware of the proper conduct of a doctor, he carefully pulled the curtain around the bed to the side.

He was shocked to see his own mother, whom he had not seen or talked to in years, laying on