The steady, mechanical beep of the heart monitor was the only sound Lucas could anchor himself to. It cut through the fog of medicinal sleep and throbbing headache, a tiny lighthouse in a sea of disorientation. He tried to open his eyes, but the fluorescent light above was a physical assault. He managed a slit, enough to see the sterile white ceiling tiles, the IV line taped to the back of his hand.
Hospital.
The last clear memory was of his office, the numbers on the quarterly report swimming before his eyes, a crushing pressure in his chest that stole his breath. Then, nothing. Now, this. Weakness, a profound and humbling exhaustion that seeped into his bones. He felt… hollowed out.
