She watched him sleeping in the bed, his cool fingers wrapped loosely around hers. His fluffy hair fell forward over his forehead, and his clean pyjamas had the sweet smell of lavender. In quiet moments like these she could ask her mind to filter out the dull room, the machines, the smell of soup and chlorine. In quiet moments like these she could almost imagine him out of there.
She saw him wake gently and whisper those three little words. Those three little words that weren’t the usual three that people talked about, but were more precious to her than any others. Three little words she had taken for granted every morning and now would give anything to hear again, to hear them whispered from his sleepy, morning mouth; ‘Good morning, sunshine.’