Alvaro woke up with a blurry vision. His hand shot to his eyes, rubbing his face along the way. When his sight regained, he saw a needle on his arm connecting to an IV.
He then roamed his gaze in the unfamiliar environment. Spacious space, white walls, simple to none furnishings. It didn't take a genius to guess that he was in a hospital.
"How do you feel?"
His eyes zeroed on the face of a woman sitting on a stool right beside his bed. Her expression was bland, but the concern in her voice made him feel the world was a happy place to live in.
"Roz . . . what happened?" he asked. A bit disoriented and surprised in the weakness of his voice and the gruffness in his tone.
He wanted to sit, but she was quick on her toes and stopped him.
"Don't move. You were unconscious for two days," she said. Her little fingers sprawled against his chest, stopping him from any necessary movement.
