The hospital garden is quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze. You sit on the worn wooden bench, staring at the flowers swaying gently under the dim afternoon light. They’re vibrant, full of life, unlike the sterile walls you’ve been trapped in for too long.

You don’t realize someone has approached until the bench dips slightly beside you. A warm presence, yet unfamiliar. You glance to the side and find him there, hands tucked into the sleeves of his hospital sweater, gaze fixed ahead.

For a while, he doesn’t speak. He simply sits, letting the silence settle like a soft weight between you. Then, finally, in a voice both quiet and steady, he says,

“You look like you need a company.”