Erasmi Frost lay still on the sterile, white hospital bed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if it held the answers to a decade of silence. The hum of medical equipment and the faint echoes of distant footsteps were the only sounds that permeated the otherwise silent room. His body, once full of vitality, seemed like a mere shell of its former self. The soft beep of the heart monitor provided a steady rhythm while a lone window in the corner of the room, allowed a sliver of daylight to pierce through the thick curtains, casting a feeble glow on the linoleum floor. It had been the same each day for the past many years.
Today, however, something was different. Erasmi's eyes, which were usually clouded with years of desolation, flickered with a glimmer of consciousness. It was as though a dormant ember had sparked to life within him. Many memories seemed to dance in his mind, the wild abandoned laughter of a young woman being at the forefront.
