2. Pictures of you, pictures of me

The nurse cupped her hand under her patient's neck, easing the girl's head down onto the pillow.

"How are we feeling today, Ana?" she asked in that kind voice.

Ana said nothing. She gazed up at the spotless ceiling, her mouth open as though she wanted to speak but couldn't find the words. The nurse's smile faltered a bit, but her mouth didn't straighten as she tucked the sheets around the girl.

"The procedure went well," she continued, looking away from the girl's face, "I'm sure you'll be feeling better soon."

There was a light knock on the open door. The nurse turned and saw a young boy standing there, his eyes grazing over the nurse until they settled on the girl.

"Are you visiting?" The nurse asked.

She found the boy to be almost as quiet as the girl. She nodded once and slipped out of the room, gently shutting the door behind her. 

The boy waited until the knob turned before making his way to the girl. He set himself in the chair beside the bed and watched as she looked at the ceiling.

"Ana," he said quietly, "it's me. It's Harper."

Ana blinked slowly, her eyes shutting for a moment before opening again. She turned her head, looking at him for a moment. She mouthed, "Harper."

Harper couldn't contain the smile from spreading across his face. "That's right."

For a moment, he expected Ana to smile as well. Then the girl turned her eyes from him to the object on the bedside table. Harper reached over and took the stack of photos into his hands. He drew the first away from the stack and looked at it for a moment before turning it to face Ana.

"See this?" He said, pointing to the fountain set behind the small group of children. "This is that fountain at the park. We'd eat lunch there after school, remember? That," he points to the boy on the end of the line of kids, "that's me, that's Jay, that's Roza, and that's you."

Ana blinked at the photo, then at Harper. The boy sighed at her confusion and returned the photo to its stack. "You don't remember, do you?"

The girl turned her eyes away and looked back up at the ceiling. He shoved the pile of photos back onto the table and pushed his chair back, standing. He walked towards the door, his hand turning the knob when he heard a small voice.

"Can we do it again?"

Harper turned to look at Ana, who's eyes stayed on the ceiling. She spoke softly, her words almost inaudible.

"Can we eat lunch there again."

Harper smiled even though he knew she couldn't see him. "Of course. Just focus on getting better, okay?"

The boy smiled as Ana nodded once.

1. Unfeeling

I feel nothing, and at a time like this, I wish I did. I don't realize the exhaustion taking over my body until I collapse on my side in the tall snow, the skin on my legs frosted with a thin layer of ice. Snow stick to my eyelashes, clinging tightly to the long hairs as I try to blink the flakes away. I move my arm closer to my body and hug it against my chest, noticing my fingers are a pale blue color. I wonder why. Pondering this, I try to get up again, only able to lift my head up out of the snow for a moment before it falls back under. I lie there, apathetic thoughts flitting through my mind. I use up the rest of my energy and roll onto my back, resting a hand on my stomach. I stare up at the sky, the bland grey clouds shifting across a pale blue background. Small flakes continue to fall, and I can tell they shower my body. I pay them no mind.
Hours pass. Then days. I feel no hunger, no thirst. The only things that bother me are the coughs that rack my body. For some reason I can't sing anymore. My throat won't allow it. No matter. Someone will come for me, I'm sure.
Another day ends, leaving me in the pleasant darkness of night. The moon tosses me a smile when the clouds decide to let it shine. I open my mouth to call out to it, but another cough makes my back arch. I roll onto my side, seeing red spot the snow there. My throat constricts and makes it hard to breathe. I blink against the snow that fights to get past my eyelashes. Maybe if I felt something, I wouldn't have come outside. I wouldn't have wandered into the woods. I would've worn a coat and shoes instead of just my nightgown. I would've felt father's love for me even when he yells. I would've felt the cold closing in on me, entering and consuming my body.
Oh well, I think, darkness penetrating my soft thoughts, I guess it's too late now.