Orange

His arm was cold. The old rusty bar had made a shallow dent on the side of it. He couldn't remember when he’d first grabbed and leaned against it. It was painful but also gave him comfort. A distraction from his empty mind. He liked the bar. He liked it more than what was happening above it.

Besides, the floor was way worse. After all this time he didn't have much more to give it. It had stolen almost all his heat and only offered a hard surface in return. Which somehow got even harder as time went on. He thought to himself that the wall was in on it too, because it was doing the same thing. Only he couldn't feel his back anymore, so maybe it was better at it. The sliver of warmth where he kept his knees pressed up to his chest had almost withered too. He was slowly losing things to hold on to. Soon, the only one left would be the one above the bar.

Sensing his thoughts, it burrowed itself deeper again. The smell didn't help either. He thought he'd be used to it by now, but he was wrong. His lungs had been filled by the sterile air long ago. So long he didn't even remember what fresh air smelled like. He'd thought about opening the window, but he couldn't. It would mean having to stand up and he couldn't risk that. Instead, he settled for staring as the orange glow from outside illuminated the wall in front of him. It was beautiful in a way. But it meant it would be dark soon and the dark scared him.

The noises from the hallway had stopped earlier than usual. This only made the one coming from above the bar louder. Plugging his ears wasn't an option. That would mean letting go of the bar. That would be futile because it once again burrowed deeper and he couldn't feel his arm anymore. It had left him too. He tried masking the breathing with his own, but the sounds were different. Too different. His breathing was healthy and the other one was not. And it was never going to be. Never again.

The beeping came into the picture now. He had successfully filtered it out, but it never left. It was always there, waiting for him to drop his guard. The slow rhythm shuddered his brain with each beep and he didn't have the strength it took to ignore it. The room had taken it away. It would take everything until all he had left was lying next to him two feet above the bar.

The natural orange was replaced by a lamplight from the street, and he felt tiredness dawning on him. He didn't want to close his eyes, because he was afraid of what he might wake up to. The beeping slowed down, giving him more space between its beats. More calm and quiet. The heart that tried so hard to keep beating for him was now slowing down to allow him some rest. It was as if it wanted him to sleep. And so, it kept slowing down until his eyes gave out and tiredness overwhelmed him.

He felt himself drifting away, but the sudden change of tone tore him out of it like a cruel joke. The beep was different now, steady. The flash of lights blinded him, and he barely made out two nurses barging into the room. He heard voices but was too tired to understand them. One of them spoke to him. He caught a few words, but it took him some time to piece them together. She said it was going to be okay, but he knew she was lying. He knew what the steady beep meant.

The bar had practically become a part of his body now and his tired eyes were filled with tears. There was no more heat to keep him warm and there was no more reason for him to lean against the bed. Maybe he could take the bed now. They would take care of him, wouldn't they?

The nurse gently lifted him up like he weighed nothing. The floor, the wall and the bar looked lonely now and he couldn't help but feel sorry for them. He finally saw the lifeless body slumped over the bed as the nurse carried him out of the room. The room he'd entered with his mom but was now leaving without her. Without anything.