9:37

(I see a room. A bedroom. There are two posters on the wall across from the bed I am lying in. The door is closed. There is a painting on the wall, a set of drawers and a bookcase. There are two windows on one wall. The blinds are closed. The clock on the bedside table says 9:37am)

Brian woke slowly and groggily in the soft sunlight which crept through the windows. The clock on the bedside table said 9:05am. Damn it, he thought, I’m late! He jumped out of bed, got dressed and sprinted out the door of the house. He ran down a side street, onto a main road, and then stopped. He looked around, confused. Hmmm, he thought, where to now? It was then he realised he didn’t even know what he was late for. He kept walking down the street anyway, thinking he might find something to jog his memory. He looked at his watch: 9:37am.

(the posters are missing. That’s one of the first things I notice. It’s a bit darker, as well. It’s the same room. At least, it looks like the same room. The painting is still in the room, though now it’s on the set of drawers, resting against the wall. The door is still closed, and so are the blinds of the windows. The clock still says 9:37am)

Brian snapped awake, panting and wildly searching the room. Eventually the silence swallowed the sound of his heavy breathing. It was 9:05am. Something felt wrong, like he was remembering something that hadn’t happened yet. Brian looked at the painting on the set of drawers and frowned. He didn’t remember putting it there. He walked out into the kitchen, made some breakfast, into the bathroom and showered, and then left the house. He turned down a side street, then onto a main road, eventually stopping at a bus stop. Soon after, it started to rain. The next bus to show up took 20 minutes to arrive. Paying no attention to the number, Brian signalled it and stepped on. It was deserted, and he chose a seat at the back. After only a few minutes, the NEXT STOP light came on, and the bus stopped. Brian looked around, shrugged, and walked out into the rain. He didn’t know where to go. He looked at his watch: 9:37am.

(this room is completely different. It is totally white and obsessively clean. All the furniture looks smaller than it should be. A small table next to the white bed is covered with flowers, and a tiny chair sits under the table. A small TV is jammed into a small shelf on the wall. This isn’t a bedroom. This is a hospital room)

Brian suddenly woke, in his own room again, and sat up. All the furniture, except the bed, bedside table and clock were gone: 9:05am. Again. He closed his eyes and held his head in his hands. He decided this must all be a bad dream, or something similar. He suddenly reached up to the clock, and adjusted the time. There: 8:23am. He got up and left the house, still in his pyjamas, and ambled slowly to the bus stop. It started to rain, and eventually the bus showed up. There was no number on the front. Brian stepped onto it and went to the back. There were two or three others on the bus. A woman near the front, in a rear-facing seat, caught his eye. Long brunette hair and stunning green eyes, she looked almost familiar, like seeing a long-lost friend’s twin: a strong enough resemblance to remind you, but different enough to still be a stranger. Even so, she looked at him intently, as though she already knew him. She suddenly spoke silently to him, mouthing the words. Without the sound, he had to struggle to understand her, but eventually, he thought he knew what she had said. “Wake up.”

(the hospital room again. There is someone in there now. I can’t see their face or body, but there is definitely someone there. The flowers are different, and there are now a few cards on the table with them. The TV is on. I can’t hear it, so I guess the sound is turned down, or off. I don’t know what’s on it)

Brian opened his eyes slowly. 9:05am. He sighed and left the house. At the bus stop, the rain came earlier and heavier than normal. Brian didn’t mind. The bus came, and Brian sat in one of the rear-facing seats at the front. After a while, an attractive brunette woman pressed the button and walked off the bus. Brian stepped out as well. Once off the bus, he searched for the woman he had seen. She had looked so familiar. A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he turned around. The woman smiled sadly and then spoke so softly that the rain almost drowned her voice. “Don’t give up. You’re so close, now.” She turned to look at a huge, white, square-shaped building on the other side of the street. “Meet me in there,” she whispered.

(it’s dark in the hospital room. The TV is off. The person is still there, sitting in the tiny chair, leaning over me. I can’t make out any features, but now I can tell she is female. For some reason I can’t feel anything, but I think she is holding my hand. She is talking, I think. There is nothing but silence in the room)

Brian opened his eyes. His room. “Damn it,” he muttered. He got up, trying to ignore the 9:05am glaring at him from the bedside table, and walked out into the bathroom. He had a cold shower, in the hopes that he might wake up. It didn’t work, but he did feel a little better. He left for the bus stop, and made it just in time. He got off a bit later, and rushed across the street, ignoring car horns and the screeching of tires. When Brian saw the name of the building, he stopped. Anderson Hospital. He walked in. A woman he thought he recognised stood in the foyer, looking at him with amusement. She had brunette hair and green eyes, and she motioned for him to come over to her. Confused, but nevertheless compliant, he walked over to her. After all, he had nothing else to do. It occurred to Brian then that he didn’t know why he had come to this building at all. When he reached the brunette woman, she smiled and took his hand. They walked to the side of the foyer, where the elevators were. They went to floor number 8, and she took Brian down several corridors in silence. They reached a room and stopped. The woman leaned over to him and spoke softly: “I’m sorry, but you need to see this.” She pushed open the door, and showed Brian the room.

(the hospital room is light again. The flowers look beautiful in the sunlight. I still can’t feel or hear anything, and right now I wish more than anything else that I could smell those flowers. There are a few more cards, but that is all. The TV is off, but I wouldn’t watch it anyway. And now – now the door is opening – )

Brian woke with a small scream, sitting straight up in his bed. No, this was not his bed. This was the hospital bed he had seen only seconds ago from the door. He turned to the woman, who was now sitting at the bedside, holding his hand. She was a nurse. She looked at him with the most intense relief he had ever seen. “What just happened?” asked Brian. The woman stood, still looking at him in the same way. “Three months ago you fell into a coma. You were shot just across the road. Lucky you were so close to the hospital, we only just managed to save your life,” she said, smiling. Brian was silent. This kind of news was never easy to hear. Brian looked up at her. “Thankyou,” he said. She smiled and began checking his pulse. As she leant over, he saw her watch. Brian watched the minute hand tick over.
It was 9:38am.