My finger makes circles in the sheets. I cleared my throat. “You said, ‘Oh shit my mom’s home.’ You were tangled in respirator wire. Adorably I might add. And you whispered, ‘hide in the closet.’ Looking back, it was probably just a bird hitting your window or something, but you were always so, so, paranoid.” The hint of a smile is clear underneath her oxygen mask, a scratchy chuckle filling the hospital room. I return a faint grin. I continue. “Well, I was in there for like, thirty minutes?” She, shaking her head in disagreement, laces her warm, thin fingers with mine, her ochre eyes exhausted but filled with resilience, and I chuckle as I lay my head by her side. She raises her eyebrows, pressing me to continue. “And well ah...” she coughs, taking a mechanical scuba-tank-esque breath.

She closes her eyes, pointing our entwined hands towards the morphine dial. I take a deep breath, her eyes unrelenting. I use the oppertunity to press her palm against my cheek. A ragged breath escapes my teeth. “You know, let’s get married Kate.” The tear tickles her palm.

She smiles. She gestures again towards the dial.

Jess’ pale blue eyes peer into mine. “I do.” A faint smile upon the edge of her lips. The warm sunset paints her in a brilliant crimson; her hair, dappled with frosted blue orchids, imbued with fire. The words, slow and mellifluous. “I consider it an honor to be chosen as yours. You are always most welcome in my inmost world, and I will share my goals and ideas with you as you yours.” I wrap my hand around the nape of her neck, and slowly lean in. Our lips touch, gently, time lingering for a moment before our lips part ways, our eyes are electric as metal meets metal, our hands struggling to piece themselves together with their newfound ornaments, comforting and whole. In the balmy summer breeze, everything felt better-than-okay.