The silence stretched into infinity.
I could actually hear the coffee dripping. Each drop hit Luka's shoe with a soft plop that might as well have been a gunshot in the quiet room. The man hadn't moved. Hadn't blinked. I was genuinely concerned he'd suffered some kind of stroke.
His brain was definitely making the dial-up internet sound right now. You know the one. That horrible screeching noise from the ancient computers in old movies. Beeeee-bwoop-bwoop-SKREEEEEEE.
Connection failed. Please try again.
Natalia shifted on top of me, and my ribs screamed in protest. She didn't seem to notice. Or care. Her weight pressed against my thighs, her fingers still tangled in my hair, and there was still a thin strand of saliva connecting our lips that I really wished would just evaporate out of existence.
The door swung open.
A nurse bustled in with a clipboard, her orthopedic shoes squeaking against the linoleum. "Time for vitals check, Mr. Nakano! How are we feeling this—"
