June

I watch Hermes laugh and chat with his friends, his eyes lighting up, his whole presence commanding the room—but he doesn't glance my way once. My fists ball at my sides.

At least he's alive. At least he didn't die in his sleep.

I whisper to myself, over and over, trying to calm the storm in my chest. But it's no use. My frustration swells until I can't stay still. I have to leave the ward. How can he forget me? Me? I was there. I was with him until the last moment. We professed our ...