Dear Syd,

Today felt like it moved in slow motion, like the whole hospital was breathing at a different pace than I am. I woke up earlier than I wanted to, to the usual sounds, soft footsteps in the hallway, monitors beeping somewhere down the line, that faint rustling of nurses doing their rounds. The room still feels too white, too quiet in a way that never really settles into peace. I kept thinking about you in between everything, like my mind keeps slipping out the door and trying to find you across time zones. They checked my vitals a few times this morning. Nothing dramatic, just routine, but even routine things feel heavier here. A doctor came in later and talked me through a few things, and I nodded like I understood every word, but honestly my brain felt a little far away. I’ve mostly been lying here, staring out the window when I can. The sky looked softer this afternoon, kind of pale and endless. I kept imagining you were on the other side of it, looking up at the same thing at some point in your day, even if it wasn’t the same moment.

-L