Hands (pt 4)

“You could at least listen to the doctor, if not to anyone else who cares about you.” Fo sat down at the table, near the book.

Mi almost wondered what the book is about, but recognized their mind trying anything to not focus on Fo.

“Mi.”

Mi’s hand clenched the rough fabric of their sheet. “I want to go home.”

Fo exhaled. “You’d be home sooner if you did as you were told.”

Mi stared out the window. The wood jammed into the frame wasn’t the same in any other room. To keep Mi in, their family decided to take more measures as the doctor hadn’t bothered. Why did the hospital have to be that shade of brown?

The rustling of paper told Mi that Fo wanted to read to them again. Mi wouldn’t listen. Even if they wanted to, Mi couldn’t focus on it. Fo worried too much, over nothing. The world conspired against them.

When Jahan entered later to tell the both of them the war has ended, Mi felt the world laugh at them.