Forever Missed

          I woke in a hospital chair that covered in plastic that clung to my thighs. Tugging down my denim shorts, I quickly glanced around the room. A digital clock read “4 AM” in dim, hard-to-read numbers. Shoving my feet in my sandals, I tiptoed over to the sterile, white bed in the middle of the room. In between the sheets lay my best friend, Adam. Machines read his pulse, blinking in near-perfect synchronization with his raspy breaths. My heart ached for every wheeze. It sounds like he’s dying inside, I thought somberly, a tear slipping down my cheek.