Doors are flung open. Entering the hospital in such a hurry is something the workers at the location advise against, as to not create any panic. Sadly, I am not in emotional state to where that matters. People at the front desk, however, are used to people being like this, and direct me to a doctor. As I approach, it seems as if he already knows what I am about to say. Couldn't muster up the courage to say it himself, it seems. I'd love his beside manner if I wasn't in such a state of shock. Then, I enter my wife's hospital room, where she's crying and alone, where it feels like the air is dense with sadness and miasma, where it's impossible for me to muster up the words to say anything to my grieving wife. Only read the first letter of each sentence.