The vending machine in the corner of the visitors' lounge groaned as it dispensed two paper cups of cheap coffee. The sound was louder than it should have been in the quiet of the hospital, like the machine was complaining about being woken up this late at night. Alex stood there, watching the cups drop, the lukewarm liquid sloshing as they settled. He took them both, careful not to spill, and walked back over to where Isabella was sitting.
She looked up as he approached, her eyes tired but grateful, and she took the cup without saying anything. Their fingers brushed for a split second, warm against the cold air of the hospital lounge. She held the cup in both hands, letting the heat seep into her skin, grounding herself.
