The red light in the emergency room lit up again. Tiana Thorne waited nearby, watching the movements inside through a small window at the door.
She saw her father lying on the hospital bed, with a respirator, eyes tightly shut, and his pale face made her heart ache.
It seemed a long time since she last saw him, his hair had turned much whiter, after all, her father was aging.
At the thought of this, Tiana's mouth turned sour, and her eyes rimmed with red.
Birth, old age, illness, and death are beyond her control.
She leaned against the wall, the redness in her eyes betrayed her emotions.
A hand grabbed her wrist, fingers cool and soft, yet not cold, a warmth flowed into her body, she looked at Linden Hawthorne, and he gazed back at her, his voice low and gentle: "Poppy, your father will be alright."
The comfort did more harm than good, making Tiana feel even more sorrowful.
