The smell of disinfectant in the ward filled the tip of my nose, and the ticking sound of the heart rate monitor sounded like a countdown.
I touched the thin medical record sheet in my pocket, and my fingertips felt hot - it was not a verdict, but a pass.
The magnolia tree was blooming outside the window, and it was blindingly white, and for the first time, my breathing was as light as if I had never borne a debt.
Intention: the meaning of life