Dustin stood in the middle of the room.
What now?
He checked his phone.
11:19 AM.
Four minutes.
Four minutes and there wasnothingfor him to do here.
Nothing except for…
He pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down.
“Hey, Marco,” he said quietly. “I'm Dustin. You don't know me.”
Marco didn't respond. His breathing stayed shallow and even.
“I saw your fish,” Dustin continued, because he needed to fill the silence. “You know, the one you posted on Facebook. The big one. That was a nice fish.”
He shifted in his chair.
“I don't know if you can hear me. Probably not.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “But I figured no one should have to do this alone. Even if you don't know I'm here. Humans aren't meant to be alone, not really, you know?”
The machines beeped. Marco breathed.
11:22 AM.
One minute.
Where was Greg?
Shouldn't he be here for this?
Was he running late?
“I swear if clipboard guy is late for this, I'll?—”
“I'm not late.”
Suddenly Greg stood at the foot of Marco's bed,clipboard clutched to his chest, looking nervous and slightly rumpled in his usual button-down and crooked tie. His eyes found Dustin's.
“I wouldn't be late for this.” He licked his lips. “I guess neither would you.”
“I said I would be here.”
“I know. I just—” Greg stopped. “I hoped you'd change your mind.”
“Why?”
Greg didn't answer. His gaze shifted to Marco, and Dustin watched him take a breath. Then another. His hands were trembling slightly where they gripped the clipboard.
Then something changed.
Greg set the clipboard down on the windowsill, straightened his tie and rolled back his shoulders. And when he moved to Marco's side, it was like watching a different person step into his skin.
The nervousness didn't disappear entirely—it was still there, underneath—but it was overlaid now by something steadier.
