A large window across the wall framed the falling snow outside, its glass fogged at the corners. Beyond, the snowflakes were drifting down, brushing against the panes before melting on contact as winter met the heat.
Inside the room, the air hung heavy with stillness.
Aurel stood close beside Mikael, attentive. She casted a watchful glance at him; her voice barely above a whisper when she asked softly, "Are you feeling well, sister? I understand your consultation with the doctor only happened this morning."
Mikael gave her a reassuring nod, saying, "I am fine. There is nothing to be concerned about."
He made it sound simple. But the truth was, people had been treating him differently.
Gently.
As if standing too close to him might somehow knock him off balance.
'I'm not made of glass.'
He was not that fragile, but ever since the doctor's visit, that was how it felt to him. And maybe, it was not entirely their fault in the first place.
