"So what now?" Eka muttered, looking at the sleeping nun. He had been standing beside the bed for at least 30 minutes, not knowing what to do in this situation.
He came here to solve his problem. The uncomfortable feeling—was it remorse? Beside the bed, a window framed the glowing night, and the masked holder looked at the moon to distract his emotions.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" An aged voice, as soothing as a lullaby, interrupted the silence.
"No," Eka replied with a subtle grimace, his eyes flickering towards the still form on the bed.
Mother Yare's eyes were looking at him. The respirator lay discarded, and she leaned against the headboard. Her hair was whiter than before.
"Ever since you were a child, you never liked it," the nun said, also glancing at the moon.
"You know me," Eka said, evidently taken aback.
