The hospital was eerily silent at night, the steady sounds of ECGs and white noise filling the air. This predawn hour was Keiko favourite time of day. He could relax, settling into the darkness without worrying about unexpected visitors or nurses checking his vitals. At 4am, the children had shed all their tears and succumbed to sleep, and the nurses napped in the office against their cluttered desks.

Keiko had been there for a few weeks, and only recently had he begun to venture out down the corridors, gripping the rail tightly as he dragged his feet along the familiar route. It had been three weeks since the accident, a drunken mistake. He wasn’t sure if he still had his sight and refused to remove the bandage over his eyes to check.

As he navigated the halls, he unexpectedly stumbled over a human obstacle. “What the fuck?” he hissed, falling on top of someone. “You can’t just sit on the ground, it’s dangerous!” he exclaimed. With nimble, battered, and bruised fingers, he pushed himself into a kneeling position.

A pause. “Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his bandaged eyes with the heel of his palm. “I should’ve had that stick-thingy the Doc told me to use.”